Over the Hills and Far Away
by John Mccallistair
Summary: In the midst of his quest to find another Night Fury, Hiccup gets himself caught up in the chaos of the First Crusade. Conflicts of faith and character arise along the campaign, and friends and enemies new and old will challenge the Chief of Berk like never before. A "Draco Ex Machina" continuum. Standard Disclaimer applies and whatnot.
1. Prolouge: Dream of Albion

I have returned!

Hello all, and welcome to my new story _Over the Hills and Far Away_. This is a sequel to my previous work _Draco Ex Machina_

**IMPORTANT FOR NEW READERS!: If you have not read** **Draco Ex Machina, IT IS _NOT_ ENTIRELY NECCESARY TO DO SO IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND THIS STORY!**

** The only things that you need to know for the moment are that as a result of DEM, Berk has been converted to Christianity. The OC that features here, Luke O'Gara was present in DEM, and played a significant role in that process. In that story, it is mentioned that the Irish who wash up on Berk, which is what caused the conversion were on their way to Scotland to pursue a Night Fury. This story takes place 14 months following DEM, where Hiccup, Astrid, Luke and Eret are in Scotland looking for the same Night Fury.**

With that said, I do hope you enjoy this story, which will be a far more serious and organized effort than my previous. This is rated T namely for copious violence later on, some good old fashioned angst, and mild sexual references.

Much thanks to my Beta _The Writer Es_ for collaborating with me on this.

And now...let us begin.

_"Over the Hills and Far Away,_

_She prays he will return one day._

_As sure as the rivers reach the seas_

_Back in his arms he swears she'll be." _ -_Over the Hills and Far Away, Gary Moore/Nightwish_

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><p>The snow laden crests of Highland mountains that had in the setting sun glistened with the reflections of fading light were now a black outline against the horizon Astrid glimpsed from camp. A small clearing through the tress gave her a portal through which to view the pride of Scotland in the still of the night. Somewhere out there, just as much a silhouette against the clear and starry sky her husband was returning to her.<p>

She hoped.

_Damnit Hiccup where are you?_

She poked the campfire lightly, attempting to maneuver a rather stubborn piece of wood into a condition where it could burn better. Stormfly lay curled up a short way away from her, getting the sleep Astrid wished she could be having. Instead, she was waiting up for Hiccup.

It had been a simple assignment. Everybody head out in a different direction, find some villages, and ask about the Night Fury. It was what they had done for the past two weeks, and was likely what they were going to be doing until all of Alba knew of them.

_Damnit Hiccup where are you?_

Her day had gone by fairly easily. She followed the formula; set the dragon down a little ways outside the village, take the road in, ask around in the prepared Gaelic, and see what you could learn. If anything went wrong, act like a typical Viking should when things went wrong.

Easy for her and Eret and Luke. The only problem was that Hiccup was not a typical Viking. Then again he had Toothless, nothing could happen to him so as long as the two were close enough to one another.

Then again, they were supposed to be apart when going into the villages.

_Damnit Hiccup where are you?_

Eret's day had been fruitless, as had hers. Luke had had slightly better luck, in that he had been stuck for an hour listening to the villagers tales of woe about dragon raids, few of which actually featured the Night Fury. They had then pointed into a direction at random and told him "Evil place".

_Perfectly helpful._

In all, Astrid was impressed with what she had seen of Scotland. Granted scenic vistas of endless mountains and picturesque villages tucked away in the valleys could get monotonous after a while, but it was overall a still quite beautiful countryside. A rather romantic place really. She was at a moment however where the person she could be romantic with was not with her.

_Damnit Hiccup where are you?_

Luke rolled over in his sleep, dragging his blanket with him as he rolled over into a ball. Eret slept a short ways away, wrapped up next to Skullcrusher. Agnes, Luke's Timberjeck dozed lightly in a tree behind Astrid, inverting herself and hanging off a sturdy branch with her tail like a bat. Astrid wasn't going to rest, not until she knew that Hiccup was safe and sound.

She had finally assorted all the wood on the campfire into a position designed to burn the best, hot but not so much as to burn through the wood quickly, just enough to last a good long time in case she dozed off and Hiccup needed a light to show him where camp was.

Not that she was going to doze off, she was determined to wait for Hiccup until she wouldn't have the muscular strength to keep her eyes open, and then she would wait with her eyes closed.

The gentle oscillating wisps of the fire gradually drew her attention away from the night sky from out of which her husband was refusing to materialize. It slowly and elegantly whirled into barely recognizable shapes and contorted into far-flung and abstract images. The warmth and hypnotizing light welcomed her, this small and circular little patch of destruction that burned but two feet before her calming her soul amidst worry and fear.

_Damnit Hiccup where are-_

Her eyes shut a moment as she yawned fiercely. Should she just go out and look for him? He had taken the Southwest, if she could just rouse Stormfly and set out fast enough she could be in his general area in an hour, looking for a black dragon against a black sky with weary eyes.

On second thought...maybe not the brightest of ideas.

The fire on the other hand was burning very brightly, very bright and very warm, calling her to relax and abandon all her worries for a moment.

A moment became two, and then three, and on the fifth she laid down on the ground, staring over her shoulder at the fire. The heat wrapped around her, an invisible spirit that massaged her muscles, loosened the grip she held on her eyes and whispered calming white noise from the slow breakdown of the wood on the blaze.

Another moment passed, and then another. By the seventh she had finally given into the luxurious temptation of closing her eyes, reveling in the simple joy of not straining to stay attentive.

She would listen. That's it, she would listen for him. Just listen, listen against the ambiance of the night life in the mountains and the crackle of the blaze. Just listen, and open your eyes when he comes back.

_Because he would be coming back. _

He would come back and she would be awake and ready for him. She would be ready to look him over, make sure he was okay and call him down to the large blankets spread out for the two of them. He would hold her against the gentle fire and together they would sleep away the night and rise at dawn, regardless of how little they slept and go about the search again.

They would find this Night Fury. Ever since they had heard of it from a group of Irishmen hat had washed up on Berk a year and a half ago, it had been a topic that had quietly simmered in the backs of everyone's mind. They had used what leads Luke could remember, but the pursuit had so far delivered nothing more than a few glimpses of something in the distance, and wolf calls Hiccup insisted were of the elusive dragon. She could see the passion in Hiccup's eyes as the group had arrived in Alba, and that fire-unlike the one before her-refused to dim or waver. That was why they were here, and why she was waiting up for Hiccup to return

Because he would return, and when he did he would hold her and talk her to sleep about how they were getting close, about how they were right on its tail and pretty soon Toothless would know another one of his kind again. And he would hold her through the night and they would sleep together as a husband and wife should.

Because she was not sleeping now, she had to wait up for Hiccup. And she was going to wait up for Hiccup regardless of how tired she was, regardless if she was yawning twice a minute and her eyes were getting watery with each instance. She was going to stay awake and greet Hiccup when he returned.

_Because he's going to return._

He was going to return and she would be awake. She would be awake and be ready to deal with whatever issues he had and whatever information he had gathered. Because she was not going to fall asleep.

It was when she had opened her eyes to a fluttering of wings, a thud against the ground and some nasal groans that she realized that she had dozed off. She quickly blinked the exhaustion away from her eyes and saw that it was still pitch black out. She couldn't have been asleep that long.

Still she quickly made herself get up, legs heavy from their rest. She stumbled over towards her husband, or at least what she could see of him by the light of the persistent but dying fire. Her arm lifted, and without precision or foresight launched into one of her distinctively playful punches against his arm as his back was turned to Toothless, either unaware of or not concerned with her movement.

"_That's_ for making me wait up all night."

"Ahhhh!

She was struck herself by the louder and more sincere cry of pain that came out of her husband as he fell against Toothless. The dragon, almost invisible against the darkness absorbed the sudden weight as Hiccup quickly righted himself and turned around, his other arm gripping the spot where he was struck.

"Easy Astrid."

Astrid pulled back a moment, pondering his outburst. It was only when the fire crackled and let loose a cloud of sparks that she saw the reason for his pain. Against his new armor, as black as Toothless and the surrounding night, there stood out a patch of white wool, stained dark with hardened blood.

"Oh God what happened to you?" She was quick to embrace him, being gentle around his arm as he turned and fell into her, more so out of his own fatigue than of pain.

"Good to see you too."

He murmured as they held each other tightly. She had been far too tired to have seen the mark, and she felt guilty at causing her husband unnecessary pain. These feelings soon dissipated as he slowly pushed her closer to their blankets. They both sighed as they disconnected, and Hiccup began disassembling the more cumbersome and uncomfortable parts of his armor that would make sleeping uncomfortable for both he and his wife.

She sat back down on the woolen blankets, making a concerted effort not to lie down just yet and doze off before she knew what had happened.

"So I take it you had an interesting day?" She managed out in the midst of a yawn.

"Yeah." He started as he took his own seat next to her. Unsteady on his metal leg, he fell down hard pulling on her for support and they found themselves both laying down on the blankets, neither particularly keen on getting up. His arms wrapped around hers as it usually went, and he recalled his day.

"First two villages were a bust, you know-

"Mmh."

"-same old same old. Third one though...third one actually had something useful to say."

"Mmh?" Astrid muttered, trying despite everything her body was telling her not to sleep. Hiccup's hand caressing the back of her head in a calming gesture wasn't making that any easier.

"Said we should head to this city further South...Eden..burg...I think it's called?" He knew its proper pronunciation, but actually forcing his exhausted body to replicate anything in Gaelic would be too much work given the hour.

"Did they hurt you?" She responded, remembering the bandage she had struck at a moment ago

"Well you see everything was going-was going fine until _someone_ smelled all the meat they were cooking for some celebration and decided it would be a good idea to try and steal a bite."

"Ohhhh...Toothless..." She half complained in a tired groan; the hand Hiccup had been using to brush her hair had now fallen onto her side, rubbing her waist back and forth with fading effort as his own eyes could feel themselves shutting.

"So before you know it they're freaking out...and Toothless is freaking out...and out came the weapons and I start freaking out...and then _everyone_ just started freaking out."

He sighed a moment, in both frustration to the event, the warm if persistent pain in his arm and at the feeling of being close to his beloved wife.

"So you know...start acting like a Viking and all that. And overall it went well. Used the Zippleback gas trick, brought out the flaming blade...and most of them decided to stay away."

"Mmh...good." Astrid managed, to the point of almost forgetting why she was concerned with this whole episode, and craving for it to be done so she could finally fall back beneath the dark shroud of sleep.

"This one kid though..." Hiccup began to laugh quietly, more breath than noise coming out of him as his chest vibrated against Astrid's back.

"We were just about to make it out of there when this little girl, couldn't have been more than...more than 9 had this little bow. Little teeny bow, probably still learning how to use it. Any way she shot...shot up at us just as we were getting away. Arrow hit right between the crack in the armor."

"Oh... poor baby..." Astrid turned over to look her husband in their mutually closing eyes.

"So we had to make a quick landing in one of the mountains so I could get it all bandaged up and whatnot. And-and then it just hurt so much that I really couldn't fly for most of the day. After enough of...something I don't know what but Toothless liked it I felt good enough to fly again and here we are. And then you punched me."

Hiccup's weak smile was enough to denote the playfulness of his comment, and Astrid reciprocated.

"Oh...I'm s-sorry."

"s' alright." He pressed his head close to her own, and the two eked a kiss out of each other despite their fatigue.

"So we're on the right path?" Astrid asked before yawning again. She could see Hiccup's eyes closing at the same rate as hers, and it was becoming a competition as to who could stay mildly alert the longest.

"I think so." He whispered softly to her.

"Mmh...good."

"Yeah..." He pulled Astrid close to himself, bodies pressed together as Astrid brought the edges of one of the blankets over their bodies, enveloping the two of them in the woolen warmth.

"We're getting close. We'll find it soon."

"Ohhh...good. You'll be happy then." Astrid muttered amidst rapidly shutting eyelids.

"Well it's not just my happiness I care about." Hiccup added as his right leg, still his own and pulsing with flesh and blood wrapped around Astrid's own, intent to draw her as close as possible.

"I don't want him to be alone anymore Astrid." He whispered into her ear in the way she found the most delight in, one innocent in nature but implying a more sensual experience they were all too familiar with.

"I want him to have something..." He reached forward, eyes closing out of both fatigue and pleasure as he managed one last kiss at her forehead. "...like what we have"

Despite the many calls of her body to sleep, Astrid found herself giggling at an argument she had had with Hiccup several times before, a fact that she took to be obvious but he continued to refute.

"What?" Hiccup asked, surprised at the sudden outburst of energy from what he knew to be a very fatigued Astrid.

"No...I think it's cute you want to-want to be a Night Fury breeder."

Though exhausted, Hiccup cracked a smile at the light hearted jest as the arm that had been caressing Astrid's side fell onto her back, slithering its way up her spine till finding final rest at the base of her neck.

"Ohhh...I'm not doing this just to find him a mate. I want to-want to find him a partner. Someone-some Night Fury to love."

"Ohhh..."Astrid groaned at the mushy romanticism her husband professed, knowing it to be more so a result of their position and the time of night rather than the fully pragmatic reasons he was hiding from her for the sake of pursuing a nobler ideal.

"Besides...I didn't just marry you because I wanted a mate, did I?"

"Hehehehe...kind of."

"Oh you don't mean that."

"Mmmhhh...guess not." Astrid conceded, knowing her own argument to be nothing more than a tired, playful ruse. She squirmed against Hiccup's body, trying to fill in every nook and opening that existed between them, seeking his warmth and comfort.

Fully in his embrace, their heat insulated by the wool that enveloped them, whatever traces of the campfire she could still glimpse beyond her eyelashes were shut out as her lids closed. She could feel his breathing as his approached hers, moving to whisper one last thing in her ear with more passion in his voice than his weary and scarred body would indicate.

"Though I'd be lying if I said that isn't a perk."

She pressed her forehead against his without even looking, and lightly brushed noses with him before giving a breathy, barely audible but distinct return.

"And when we find the Night Fury, you can get that perk."

"I would certainly hope so."

"You will." She laid her head into his own as she held back a yawn at the back of her throat.

"Now go to sleep."


	2. City of Flesh

**An economy has to run somehow, right?**

**As always much thanks to my** **beta**_ The Writer Es _**and**** especially to you, the reader. **

**Read, Review, Share and Enjoy!**

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><p>The city, like most smelled of urine.<p>

Scottish urine.

The _worst_ kind of urine.

The only comfort was that this smell was covered up by a variety of burning substances, freshly cut wood, disease, occasionally freshly baked bread and, on passing one of the more well off, wisps of exotic perfume. It was also rather on the loud side, and loud Scots as Hiccup was coming to learn was neither the most pleasant or melodic of sounds.

"Ah, reminds me of home."

Luke exhaled with a grin, sweet memories of Ireland dancing in his mind.

"Well, old home." He added as Hiccup and Astrid looked behind to him.

They had managed to make it through the city gates without much problem, passing off the half truth that they were nobility here on a mission of diplomacy. Eret had stayed behind with the dragons, although his own mildly Gaelic features would have been a welcome addition to the group's endeavor.

The walk to the town center had been at a brisk pace, none of them wanting to organize their efforts on the streets. The eyes of the townspeople seemed to latch onto them whenever they were in view.

They were certainly a distinctive assortment.

Hiccup's armor, redesigned with blackened leather with highlights of scarlet overlaid his otherwise quite regular clothes. The sword at his side was also a rather unassuming piece, which often led to it having to be used when those that thought nothing of the short handle confronted him. The metal leg was also of particular interest to the leering eyes of the city folk regardless of class, all admiring its design, and speculating about what a man would have to have done to not only lose a leg, but to have such an impressive looking substitute added. It gave Hiccup a mild boost of confidence to be looked over with such interest, even if most of the emotions being cast upon him were of envy and caution.

Luke, ever eager to make clear that he was a warrior and a gentleman, also chose black as his color of choice. He had come to abandon the more continental style clothing he had first insisted on wearing when on Berk to an amalgamation of Viking and Gaelic dress, seeking to combine his old culture with his new one. His only armor was a mail shirt he wore between two tunics, the inner white and the outer black. He insisted to Hiccup regularly that armor should only be worn when going into battle, but adjusting to the Viking way meant living up to the tradition of always being prepared for battle. Over the rest of his black clothes was a cloak that Hiccup joked gave him the look of a Night Fury itself. It hung broadly over the knight's shoulders, and instead of wafting in the wind often kept much closer to his body by virtue of the extra hooks the Irishman-turned Viking insisted on having.

It was Astrid of course who garnered the most attention. Her green tunic-one of her best as far as she was concerned-gave her ample support and managed to tighten around her body in just the right way to show muscles, yet was still modest enough to make other aspects of her less noticeable. On top of this, resting snugly above her heart was a broach consisting of three golden triangles, each point of linkage between the three adorned with an emerald. It was among her most valued possessions, as well as a silver cross that was concealed below her tunic and held close to her body.

Her own armor was light, merely a new set of slicker, more solid but quite intimidating shoulder guards, and an array of metal plates that hung heavily on her leather skirt, which itself fitted snugly over an admittedly poorly hemmed pair of black leather pants. Her axe was slung over her back, positioned at an angle designed to allow her to walk as naturally as possible while still permitting her to draw it quickly should the situation warrant it. She-and Hiccup- could feel the stares on her in particular as she strode with confidence by her husband's side; less scared of what any man could do to her but rather what she'd in turn do to said man, which would in turn probably get them banished from a general area and labeled demons never to return.

A black clad Gael, a talking fishbone and a Valkyrie-quite the distinctive assortment indeed.

The town square was as unremarkable and disheartening as the streets that led to it. The only thing that marked it as such was the fact that it was a wide open space in the middle of an otherwise dense and cramped area. It was comprised of dirt, beaten down and trodden upon to the point that it may as well have been rock. Merchants and shopkeepers were its main feature, yelling even louder than the other townspeople In Scots, Gaelic, English and a few other more Southerly tongues.

"Well, where do we start?" Astrid asked, trying to remain cheerful amidst the admittedly dismal scene and prospects.

"I suppose I'll start with the food vendors." Luke recommended. The odd selection got him another look from Hiccup and Astrid and he moved to expand.

"What? Breakfast hasn't held me over."

The pair scoffed at him in amusement. Despite his lackadaisical sense of humor, O'Gara had done more than his share or work on this expedition. When he set about to do something, he did it was conviction, as if the very sake of his honor depended on it.

Granted, this sense of loyalty had put him in a bad position a year and half ago when he was still in service to a supposed man of faith, but his efforts to defend his friend of the same vocation and actions in carrying on said individuals memory had earned him enough respect throughout Berk for him to be promoted to the station of huscarl.

"Fine, you go eat and then sweep that side of the area." Hiccup looked to his wife, and to the vortex of languages and bartering that awaited them all.

"Astrid, guess we'll start on this side and keep to it."

"Sounds like plan."

"I assume we'll just pursue the other when we have something credible?" Luke asked as he began to turn, the faint but distinctive aroma of roasted meats calling his attention.

"Fair enough, let's get a move on then." The three broke apart, Luke turning to his more immediate physical needs as Astrid and Hiccup approached the maelstrom of traders before them. The only advantage they had was the fact that the market was crowded, they wouldn't have to worry about any merchants trying to drag them into conversations of economics they'd rather avoid.

They entered the chaos, both having to nearly dance around the shifting tides of people and merchandise. Hiccup's face grew stern and frustrated. No matter whatever position he found himself in, there was always someone yelling right by his ear. Scots was unpleasant enough when pronounced from a distance.

It was downright disgusting three inches away from him.

Occasionally one of them would yell in Gaelic, which Hiccup could at least deal with. O'Gara still spoke it often on Berk, and Hiccup and Astrid had managed to learn some of it specifically for this undertaking. It was a smoother, more elegant tongue, one which could be sung by poets in the great hall and was conducive to emotion and eliciting long lost feelings and desires, especially when spoken by a native like O'Gara or the unfortunately deceased deacon.

Scots-and for that matter English-was like a loud, abrasive and unceasing war hammer to the face.

Astrid could deal with the sonic assault slightly better, and her attention was more directed to the stalls and the men who ran them. They were looking for something draconic, something that would indicate that the seller had some kind of relationship with dragons. They were both ready to accept that they have to deal with a man who traded in the blood of the same creatures they befriended and rode, but that was a deal they were willing to make for the sake of information.

She was pulled over by Hiccup to one of the stalls. There was only one other person, a woman whose robes indicated at least some wealth who hovered over the table, managing careful and strategic offers and counter arguments to the trader, an Englishman who despite the offerings on his table appeared to have little with which to make himself appear presentable.

"Fur peecis silva fur Nadda skalz! Finel Offr!"

"Thee'z ale I give!"

Hiccup and Astrid watched with amusement as they went back and forth in hostile and abusive sentences, continuing to narrow the price of a Nadder scale necklace down by half and quarters of silver pieces.

"Way wid ya cheep Sca'ish swindla! Ye!"

The merchant gave up all attention to the Scottish woman and diverted it to Hiccup in following with one of the oldest tricks of merchants. The noblewoman trudged away dismayed and fuming while Hiccup readied himself to confront the visibly tired and monetarily desperate trader.

"Lookin fur pretty tings fur ze lass eh?" The Englishman glanced at Astrid as most did, but was respectable enough to make the glance only momentary before turning back to Hiccup and extending a hand.

"Gregory Antonius! Finest trayda a dragen skales til Londen! Wha' cashes yer eye?"

After shaking Hiccup's hand he waved it over the lazily constructed wooden shelf. Necklaces, headwear and other pieces of adornment and fashion were assembled in a half organized manner with the aim of presenting their colors and polish to passersby. They were all from dragons, but given their colors mostly just Nadders and Rumblehorns.

As fashionable in death as they were in life.

"Gael speak do you?" Hiccup asked in one of the few English phrases he knew for just such an occasion. Seeing he was dealing with a man who did not speak his native tongue, Gregory's face dropped in disappointment.

"Nah doen speek the Gael speek. You speek the Vikin' one?"

Hiccup's eyes alit at the very mention of his ethnicity, regardless if he was a true exhibitor of its traits or not.

"Yes! I speak the Norse tongue!

"Eh! Good old Viking lad! Good businessmen all of ye!"

Antonius laughed with glee now that the language barrier had been broken. Hiccup let his guard down a moment and moved to discuss the important matters. Astrid simply held up a crown of Nadder scales blue and gold. Hiccup could see the bubbling frustration in his wife, but knew she would control herself-at least long enough for business to be concluded.

"Yes...anyway we're here in Scotland on business. We're hunting down a..." Hiccup leaned in towards the trader, indicating the delicacy of the matter. "...Night Fury."

Antonius reared his head back in fear of the name and looked around the area a moment to make sure the hell beast had not been summoned. Hiccup noticed the fear, but hoped the trader would be reasonable enough to keep information flowing.

"We've heard stories of it being here in the land of Scots, and are looking to hunt it down to kill. Would a man like you know anything about it?"

The ruse of intent to kill the dragon won back some respect and courage from the trader, who attempted to puff up his chest in the face of a man who despite outwards appearances professed to be of the feared culture of the North.

"Eh...nah not me. Seen the beast a while ago when it attacked in Carlisle but haven't heard anything since. You want to talk to that man..."

Gregory pointed through a lucky parting in the crowds and vendors to a stall on the opposite side their current row.

"Goes by Duff. My main competition, but I'm sure you'd agree my wares are better right lass?" Gregory looked to Astrid, who was running her hands over a series of Nadder scale necklaces, brimming with fury at the touch; polished and ground to a sheen. Pieces of art, and probably all the Nadder had died to become.

"Interested in anything?' Gregory added with the smile used by all merchants when courting a customer. Astrid kept her composure for the moment before softly replying.

"No thank you, I have plenty of Nadder scales."

"Ah suit yourself, but doubt you'll find a beast this side of Canterbury that glistens quite like those I bring in. Anyways lad..." Gregory turned back to Hiccup to finish their business "...Duff there knows more about the beasts than I could ever find the time to hear about. Any man around here knows what's become of the hell-spawn, it's him."

"Okay, thank you trader. Come on Astrid."

Hiccup pulled at Astrid's hand as they once more began to navigate the sea of people and transactions as they made their way to the next row of stalls.

"I know Astrid." He whispered into her ear as he avoided a loud declaration of sale in Scots.

"It's like they're nothing but bears or wolves to them. Just game to be harvested."

"I know Astrid. But now is not the time or place to cause a scene."

"A shame."

She kept close to him, eyes darting around to stalls, some offering gold, others amber, others weapons, and each one having at least one piece of a dragon's body or skin to sell. They moved briskly, eager to get out of the bazaar of dead dragons and deafening voices.

The stall they approached was not too dissimilar from any other, but it was the man behind it that drew the most attention. The face was clearly weathered from the ravages of life, battle and advanced age. A beard and mustache of very fine hair and lunar color fell down several inches from his face. No hair was to be found on his head, and his body was wrapped in a dark green cloak.

"Uh...hello?" Hiccup approached the vendor who appeared to be caught in the trance of listening to the rough oscillations of Scots and English that surrounded them all. The old man looked up, a stern but curious face greeting Hiccup as the vendor looked the chief up and down, paying less attention to Astrid than most did.

"Do you...speak Norse?"

The vendor kept quiet, still analyzing the pair that approached him. The slim man in black leather and the woman with an axe slung over her shoulder were a peculiar sight to the old one, who only cocked his head as Hiccup tried another language.

"Gael speak? Do you speak Gaelic?"

The old man remained silent as the pair approached the stall, packed with all manner of draconic apparel, ground bones for remedies, teeth turned into basic knives, and plenty of illustrious skins of varying color.

Including a black one.

Knowing that the old man was ignoring him for the moment, Hiccup was quick to pull the small hood off its bar and felt it over, heart racing with speculator rage and fear. These hopes and worries were abated as he felt the skin. Its base was slick, each indentation of where a scale would be small and polygonal. Not a Night Fury, merely a Zippleback painted black. Astrid ran her hand over the hood as well with the same concerns.

"Cheap." She whispered into Hiccup's ear.

"Yeah." He put the hood back with a steadied hand, the old man watching his arm as it fell back to his side and the two looked over the wares a moment.

"Do you understand Norse? English? French? Anything?" Hiccup tried his best to cover the major languages of trade. The old man remained resolute, unwavering in his conviction not to speak?

"We're looking for a ...Night Fury. We were told you might know something of it. Do you?"

The old man leaned back at the mention of the dragon, but still said nothing.

"Do you understand anything I'm saying?" Hiccup demanded with force as his hand slammed down on a cloak of Seashocker skin, voice trembling with the emotion of the touch.

The old man was unfazed by the demand, and managed a slight grin at the display of motion. Both Astrid and Hiccup locked eyes with the old man, who seemed to be determined not to give them any information.

"A staring battle with a Scotsman is one destined to be lost Vikings."

Both turned around to a voice that clearly held Norse as its mother language, and to a tall blond man at a stall devoted to the selling of rugs.

"You'll find no information on the great scourge from that bag of bones."

The salesman gestured them over with a hand. The two, deciding to try the man's consul instead of wasting breath on the old face in a green cloak made their way through the river of eager shoppers, purveyors and thieves to the far more welcoming trader of tapestry.

"Oswald." The Norseman extended his hand in welcome, Hiccup and Astrid reciprocated.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, chief of Berk."

"Astrid, his wife."

The Norseman looked the two over and gave the usual scoff of disbelief that most gave when learning of such a truth before leaning with both arms on his stand, beckoning the two closer.

"Can't say I've heard of the place, from Norway myself but spend most of my time down here, more opportunity for trade and ladies. Anyways...couldn't help but overhear you're looking for the Night Fury. Come to kill it have you? Succeed where others have failed?"

"There isn't a dragon alive that I can't subdue." Hiccup boasted, knowing it to be true even if its context was not.

"Well you'll get nothing out of old Duff there. I've actually managed to get him to speak a few times, and his reputation is mostly superstition and piffle. Doesn't know much more than anyone else."

"And you do?" Astrid interjected, half skeptical.

"Hardly, but at least I'm willing to help you two. Now if you want to know the real situation..." The trader motioned for the two to enter his stall as he went into the back and pulled out a small map of Britannia. Though the parchment showed signs of age, Hiccup was nonetheless impressed by its condition and detail, well exceeding that of his own of the Archipelago.

"That particular torment hasn't been seen around these parts for a good five months. That was the last time at least anyone in this city had to fear it. Since then it's been spotted here..." Oswald placed his finger on the map and began to trace it downwards. "At Carlisle and then there was a strike at Nottingham, and I just heard yesterday it even attacked the bishop's place at Canterbury. God have mercy on the lad."

"It's moving South." Astrid mentioned, a thought already obvious to all.

"Aye lass, and fast. Would be surprised if it isn't storming its way through France at the moment. Poor souls."

Hiccup's eyes alit with the information, and disappointment was soon to follow it. They weren't even close. Hundreds of miles away, hundreds of miles behind.

"And this information is accurate?" Astrid asked as Hiccup studied the map, quietly contemplating an offer on it.

"If a trader's word is worth anything I give it to you with God as my witness that it is honest."

"Five silver pieces for the map." Hiccup's proclamation caught the fellow Viking off guard a moment before he rallied with all the pride and decisiveness of a usual merchant.

"I'm afraid 15 is my best offer lad, sorry."

"Deal."

Astrid looked to her husband startled. He hadn't bought anything worth that much since the broach she now wore as a badge of honor above her breast. That much for a map, it seemed ridiculous. Before she could even protest, the coins had passed hands, the map was folded and placed in Hiccup's breastplate, and the two and bid farewell to Oswald. They began to make their way out of the vortex of people, Hiccup brimming with excitement and Astrid still bewildered by the sudden transaction. As they exited the madness and made for a spot outside the shops to gather themselves away from other transactions, Astrid brought up the most recent one.

"Hiccup...!" She grabbed his arm to get his attention. "We don't have a whole ton of coin with us; you can't just go and blow some of it on some map."

The Chief, surprised by what he saw as unjustified anger on his wife's face countered with hesitation.

"What? It's a nice map and it will help us navigate down to France."

"Hiccup we can find our way anywhere you know that. What we can't do is waste money on parchments that would be better spent on supplies!"

"What the Hell are you getting so bent out of shape about? We're doing fine."

Astrid gave Hiccup a scowl she rarely used; and so the impact of such an expression was all the more important.

"Hiccup...I know this means a lot to you but you can't be so reckless with our supplies and money."

"I'm not being reckless. This is a good buy and if it helps us track down the Night Fury it'll be worth it." He retorted with confidence and determination that he was a savvy shopper.

Astrid narrowed her eyes. Her husband's determination was certainly a trait she liked to see in him, but this purchase was highlighting what she feared was a growing tunnel vision on the elusive dragon they were pursuing.

"Hiccup I know you're eager to find this dragon but we have to think about this situation reasonably. We can't just spend random and high amounts of money just because we get a lead. We're going into this without much knowledge as it is."

"Astrid..." Hiccup started, irritated at his wife's argument at what he saw to be a perfectly rational purpose. "We'll be fine. We can always find our way around, money or not. I don't know why you're acting so bitter about this!"

"We don't know if we're even going to catch this thing Hiccup. And do I have to remind you yet again that we don't even know if it's a girl or not?"

Hiccup's eyes indicated that he was digging in his heels for an argument he had had far too many times before to back away from now.

"Astrid for the last time this isn't about finding a mate for Toothless! We're just trying to reconnect him with another one of his kind, this...has...NOTHING...to do...with...mating!"

Astrid flung her arms around at hearing the argument she had heard dozens of times before and she still knew to be false.

"For God's sake Hiccup you know in your heart that's what you're after! Why can't you just accept the possibility that Toothless may never get to have children! He's just going to end up being like us!"

Both sides of the couple widened their eyes in shock at the statement. Its honesty was direct, its implications brutal, its subject delicate.

After their first-or many-romantic escapades before marriage, the threat or pregnancy had hung over them like a dark if pleasant shadow. Following their official union it hadn't been an immediate concern; the joys of newlywed bliss were more pressing concerns than an immediate heir.

By the time the Irish had come to Berk and Daniel O'Rourke had made his final sacrifice to win the island his trust, it was starting to become an issue of note in village conversation. It had been two years since their first time, and the lack of offspring was becoming apparent.

Now more than another year later, they were getting worried.

"H-H-Hiccup I'm..." Astrid was visibly guilty over letting herself bring up the topic, Hiccup was equally surprised, and bristled with self shame. "I'm...I'm sorry. I know-"

"It's okay Astrid...I know it's...hard for you to be married to someone who's..."

"Hiccup no...come on..." Astrid drew close to him, her anger at his purchasing of the map subsiding as more important emotional issues came to light. "It might not be you. It...It could be me."

"Astrid..." Hiccup started, equally ignoring the original cause of contention and drawing his wife close to comfort them both.

"It can't be you. You're too perfect for that. Too perfect to be-you just can't be."

The mutual anger both had felt towards each other a moment ago dissipated, leaving in its wake an emotional pain both shared.

"Maybe it's both of us?" Astrid inquired quietly.

"Ohh...I hope not." Hiccup's head sunk at the thought. If it was one of them, that was understandable. The thought of mutual infertility was more than a little discomforting. Whatever anger either had about the map had subsided in favor of grief and fear.

"Okay maybe...maybe that has a part in it. Maybe I...maybe I want him to have a family."

He pulled Astrid close to him, forgiving what he was understanding to be a rather reasonable complaint as his own grievances of their otherwise ideal marriage came to a head.

"In case we don't."

The phrase was enough for Astrid to wrap her arms tightly over Hiccup's shoulders, a hand running up the back of his hair.

"We will Hiccup. With God's grace we will."

Hiccup could feel Astrid's broach, a sign of the faith she so passionately had embraced pressing against his chest. His own cross, silver and small was held firm between his Pecs. It had been hard to dismay Astrid since the adoption of Christianity, and even more so since her baptism alongside him. She was renewed with a sense of spiritual conviction that, despite the death of the man who had given her such piety, refused to dim.

"I hope so Astrid."

"I know so."

The point of emotional tension was being resolved, a reconciling of the present was met.

"Maybe I-Maybe I did over pay for the map."

Astrid huffed in amusement. "Yes you did."

"But you can't deny that it's a nice looking map." Hiccup attempted to lighten the mood, and Astrid was more than willing to oblige.

"As nice looking as our kids will be Hiccup." She leaned him to give him a light kiss on the lips.

"Because they will _be_."

Hiccup smiled at the statement and the action that preceded it. He looked around for a change of subject, and found a glimpse of a certain black clad Celt gave him such.

"We should probably go tell O'Gara about what we've learned.'

"And show him that map."

The two exchanged a smile of playfulness and made their way across the fair ground, managing to avoid most potential opportunities to have walking salesman torture their ears with Scottish bids and proclamations.

* * *

><p>Unique rivers of purple and orange ran across the sky as Luke, Astrid and Hiccup trudged their way to camp two miles outside the city walls. A small clearing in the surrounding woods had been an ideal spot to set down the dragons that morning, and after a long day of taking in the city and corroborating Oswald's story with a few other helpful people, the three were relieved to return to their dragons.<p>

"And here I thought I'd have to go looking for you lot."

Eret welcomed the trio to the grove with open arms, relieved to see the group return from the city mostly unscathed. Toothless quickly rose from a doze and rushed over to Hiccup, tackling him to the ground with affection. Stormfly remained where she was lying, too busy preening her scales to give much more than a grateful nod that her rider had returned. Luke made a rush towards Agnes, the Timberjack quickly enveloping the Celt in her wings and cocooning him into the ground, a common occurrence between the two.

"Toothless-Toothless! Enough!" Hiccup managed to get the Night Fury off of him with only a few nauseating licks to the face. Astrid leaned against his side, accepting that her dragon's vanity superseded her company for the moment.

"I take it you must have some news at least, considering how long you were gone." Eret inquired.

"Believe it or not we do." Astrid replied as Hiccup wiped Toothless' remaining slobber away from his face.

"Yeah, actually got some insight as to where this thing is, and a nice little map of the surrounding area." Hiccup winked at Astrid, knowing he was treading some still quite thin ice at bringing up the parchment.

"Good, I take it we're close then?"

Hiccup's face fell with the question, and the truth that it revealed. He had brought his wife and two of his closest friends all the way down to Scotland, and they were still hundreds of miles away from their target.

"Well...not exactly."

Eret squinted at the less than pleasing words.

"_How_ not exactly are we talking?"

"Uh...well..."

"It's probably in France by now." Astrid broke in to put an end to her husband's stalling. Eret was relieved to hear the information, but was disconcerted by it.

"France? That's...quite a long ways away from here. A few hundred miles to be exact."

"Yeah...we're uh...we're...we're not even close right now." The defeat in Hiccup's voice was evident to all, as was the disappointment in Eret's as he went to speak.

"So...what now then?"The question was simple, but carried with it serious repercussions and decisions. "Just keep going?"

Hiccup sighed, knowing what such a decision would mean. Britannia was already quite far from home, France even more so. And by the time they got there, it could be even further away. They would be hunting it till the ends of the Earth.

"Well Britannia is a wonderful place for sightseeing from what I hear!" A muffled voice from inside the wings of a Timberjack proclaimed with mild humor.

"It would take us a long time to find it, no matter how close we get to it" Astrid added as all weighed the seriousness of the decision to come.

"Yeah..."

Silence overcame the group, Astrid and Eret looking to the chief for a decision, Luke trying to get himself unwrapped from the embracing wings of his dragon.

This was what he wanted, what he had been hoping for ever since he had first met Toothless seven years ago. The thought of finding another Night Fury at long last was tantalizing. They were on the right trail, they were just so far behind. They could certainly pursue, but for how long?

"Oh finally!" Luke broke Hiccup's train of thought a moment as he delicately undid himself from the razor sharp blades of Agnes and crawled to his feet, his dragon slithering to his side and raising her body in interest at the tense situation.

They could theoretically do this forever, and always be too late and too far behind. Or they could return to Berk, and just hope that another Night Fury, the rarest of all dragons showed eventually. They could dare and win, or err and fail.

"Astrid?" Hiccup asked, seeking council.

"Yeah babe?"

"Do you...think the island will be alright?"

Astrid could see Hiccup's decision writ upon his face and could hear it in his question.

"Well if they can survive with as chief, I'm sure they can last a little longer in your absence."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"That's what it was meant as." Astrid smiled as they exchanged coy expressions. Hiccup turned to address Luke and Eret.

"So, I guess we just keep going. Until we can't go any further. "The statement was designed to rally the group, but one question persisted in the back of their collective consciousness.

"Someone's going to have to tell the village about this. They'll start to worry if they don't hear anything for a few more weeks." Eret's point was poignant, and led to a few awkward stares between the four.

"So...who goes?" Astrid asked, looking only between Luke and Eret who were the only ones who could conceivably perform such an action. Both shifted in their boots, weighing options and assessing their self worth.

"Well..." Luke began, intending to make his case to go in order to be back with Father Macintyre and Ruffnut, with whom he was becoming increasingly intimate.

"I'll go." Eret cut Luke off quickly before he could finish. "Luke knows more about the way things are done down here, and his dragon is faster than Skullcrusher. It only makes sense that I go back." Eret looked to O'Gara for a response, and though he could see some disappointment on the knight's face; he could also sense pride and respect coming from the man who held himself to be a paragon of such traits.

"Okay then...thank you Eret."

"Son of Eret...and you're welcome my chief. I suppose I might as well set off now, still got everything of mine packed."

"If you say so." Astrid began as she approached him, mildly disappointed to see him leave.

"Have a good flight." She gave him a hug of friendship, and Hiccup closed in to give his own after she broke away. His started with a handshake before both men, trying to keep some sense of masculinity pulled hard at each other, more bumping chests than sharing a moment. Eret's weight and muscle was more than enough to deflect Hiccup backwards, Astrid catching him just in time.

Luke approached and the two friends, equally rivals of strength and fortitude simply shook hands, each attempting to put his full strength into it.

"Safe travels my friend."

"You as well, and take care of Ruffnut for me."

Eret smiled at the classic quip from the Gael as the two accepted the departure.

"Eret? Tell Valka she's in charge and...and please make sure Snotlout doesn't try anything stupid."

"...Son of Eret, and I will Hiccup." The former dragon trapper turned to his dragon, up and at attention sensing the importance of the moment. He mounted, supplies already on the beast, and bid a final wave and farewell to his comrades.

"Best of luck all, I hope you find it."

"Goodbye Eret, Son of Eret." Luke waved off the man as he ascended into the air and soon disappeared into the Scottish skies. It took several minutes of silence for any in the group to speak again.

"So...just keep going then." Astrid spoke up.

"Yep. Guess we just start heading South tomorrow."

"Great, now what's for dinner?"

The couple looked towards the knight, already moving on from the departure and concerned with more immediate matters.

"What? Lunch didn't hold me over." The group collectively chuckled as they all realized that they should get a fire going and seek to ready for the night as the color began to fade from the sky.

As they set about the preparations for the night, Hiccup took a moment to look upon the city they had left in the distance. What they had seen in the marketplace worried him, the feel of the painted Zippleback skin was a phantom on his fingers. Luke had warned them about how hostile people could be towards dragons in the South, but Hiccup had not been entirely prepared for what he had seen. It made him nauseous, Astrid furious, and Luke's apparent indifference to it worried him. If Scotland was already so dangerous for dragon kind, the chief feared for what lay ahead in France.

Toothless nudged his side, bumping him out of speculation and fear and demanding affection. Hiccup was more than willing to give it to the Night Fury that he was willing to travel to the ends of the Earth to make happy.

"Yeah bud, we're going to be fine."


	3. Merchant of Death

**_"It is too difficult to think nobly when one only thinks of earning a living."_** -Jean Jacques Rousseau

**Here we are then, the next thrilling installment of OTHAFA! Hope it lives up to your expectations.**

**Read, Review, Share and Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>England had passed by without much problem, contrary to Luke's worries about the angry temperament of the Saxon people and the Normans who ruled over them. Keeping persistently to the most rural countryside they could find, they avoided most any human contact throughout the four days it took them to travel across the country.<p>

Luke had been right. Despite his warnings about the people, Britannia regardless of nation was a beautiful place in Spring. The pastures and hills, lush with green and glistening with the moisture that constant rain bestowed upon them were an admirable scene to fly over for hours on end, an endless vista of bounty and life to keep one occupied on long flights.

Hiccup had been hoping to maybe make a stop at Nottingham or London. Valka had told him before their departure about the stories she was told growing up of Norman relatives. Hiccup had been hoping maybe to find a way to view any record books that might be available and to track down these distant relatives. Astrid and Luke however had insisted that they continue to move as fast as they could, and Hiccup had to concede that such an effort would likely end in failure, disappointment, and add unnecessary distance between them and the Night Fury.

The only disconcerting thing the group and Hiccup in particular had noticed was how the further South they went, the fewer dragons they saw.

This wasn't just that they weren't actually seeing many dragons, but there were not even calls to be heard in the distance, no small nests to be found, hardly any indication to a draconic presence in the area.

The memories of the Edinburgh market were clinging to Hiccup, having unsettled him more than he would have liked. Before the peace, the dragons that had died following each raid were usually just burned or cast into the ocean. Occasionally a Zippleback would have its poison extracted to be made into a numbing agent for the sick, but that was the most; and given the amount of poison any single Zippleback contained this was a rarely necessary occurrence.

There was something about seeing dragons pursued for what they were, for their scales, their skins, their teeth that disturbed the chief. Having been so close to Toothless for so many years, having developed with him a friendship that would persevere throughout any hardship, seeing dragons reduced to game to be hunted and harvested angered him.

That was not dragons were supposed to be used for. Dragons were friends, who could give man the gift of flight and companionship when he was at his loneliest. They were far more valuable alive than dead.

Britannia had seemed to disagree with him on this point.

As much as Hiccup was disturbed by the sights and revelations that their travels had given them, another fact was slowly simmering at the back of his mind. Whereas he and Astrid showed the proper and understandable amount of shock and abhorrence at the stands and displays of dragons hunted for sport, it was Luke's indifference that struck them the most.

Every time Hiccup tried to discuss the issue with Astrid or vice versa, Luke would seem to not care, or even interject to remind them of similar things he had seen back in Ireland. He would even smile at the memories, not so much of pleasure at their remembrance, but at how shocked his Viking friends were at the sight, of their virgin eyes and innocent bewilderment at such large scale persecution.

Over the past 14 months since O'Gara had first washed up on Berk with the rest of the Irish, he had made it quite clear that he had a reputation as a warrior to uphold. The easy way in which he had taken down Snotlout at the memorial feast for Stoick had been proof enough, and the time he had since spent teaching several on Berk, including Hiccup his particular manner of sword fighting had cemented his status as a capable soldier.

In that same amount of time though, he had also regaled the tribe and the chief of his former life in Ireland. Of his many years spent in the service of the traitorous bishop O'Neill, and of his many encounters with foe both human and dragon. It was the latter kind of story that always made Hiccup uneasy. As much as Luke had taken well to his Timberjack and adjusted to Berkian life, the way he described his battles indicated there was still a part of the Celt who held an enjoyment at the occasions. The way he articulated just where he struck, how the blood would spill in a certain direction, how the beast would cry out as the final blow was delivered.

What disturbed Hiccup even more was how some of the older Vikings welcomed his stories without care and enjoyed them. O'Gara offered them fresh tales of what had been many years ago a regular Berkian pastime, if not an integral part of life. All such stories had been told to the point of exhaustion by the older generations, none having had to commit such an act since the peace. Luke's fresh and lively told tales had restored the fires of bloodlust in them all. And even though none were arguing for a renewal of violence, the fact that they still took such an enjoyment in Luke's tales was unsettling.

The Gael did not flinch at the sight of dragon skin capes and necklaces made out of scales, and showed no disgust at how such things were displayed like jewelry or other regular pieces of clothing. He seemed to analyze them with cold acceptance, debating whether the prices being offered were actually worthy and showing a total indifference to the implied methods as to how the beasts were captured.

Despite this, Hiccup had to keep any fears and apprehensions he had about life down South to the back of his mind as the trio crossed the English Channel and entered Normandy. It was equally a gorgeous place from what they had so far seen. The rugged cliffs that braved contact with the waters of the North gave way to dense brush and wide expanses of fields both cultivated and fallow.

When the group had found a space they deemed well enough out of the way of any village or castle, they had settled down after a long day of flying. They knew that when they rose, it was going to be another long day of pursuit and scrounging for information in local towns that would be increasingly foreign to them. Regardless, they would push on, refusing to give up the pursuit until the end of the World. They had settled down in a clearing a good ways away from any settlement, and were content to let the night pass by and bid another dawn and day to come.

* * *

><p>"Debout."<p>

Hiccup was still fighting to stay beneath the shroud of sleep when he heard the word. Too comfortable where he lay, his back to Astrid and her arms draped over him, he lazily allowed himself to ignore what was being said, brushing it off and rolling to his side

"Debout." Hiccup felt a light tap on his chest from the figure standing above him. His eyes heavy with sleep, the part of his mind that had been forced to surface for consciousness again ignored the call, figuring it was O'Gara trying to disturb him with a Gaelic greeting.

"..Mon Luk...fi mo mintes." Hiccup mumbled as he pulled the blanket closer to his head. The man who stood above Hiccup shrugged at the statement before taking a deep breath and prepared to yell.

"Réveillez-vous!" The man's foot slammed into Hiccup's abdomen with more than enough force to wake the Viking from his slumber.

"Ah! What the-" Hiccup's exclamation was broken when he looked up to the figure that had awoken him.

It wasn't Luke.

The man was still in his late thirties, but sported well groomed and slick black hair and a mustache, the latter far less well maintained than the former. He was dressed in a dark leather cuirass adorned with steel studs, and wore similarly styled greaves along his legs. His arms were guarded by well fitting steel braces. His complexion was not fair, but of the distinctively French characteristic of neither being white, yet not decidedly Mediterranean in feature.

He held in his arm and outstretched to within three inches of Hiccup's face a long-sword. Hiccup's rapidly panicked eyes traced the blood trench up the length of the steel to the man's face, which grinned at seeing the person on the sharp end of the blade worried and confused.

"Bon matin."

Hiccup looked around himself, awestruck by the early morning sight. They were surrounded.

Astrid was up and alert, but Hiccup found that another man held her equally still on the ground at the point of a spear. A short way across from them, Luke was equally pinned by two other soldiers equally well equipped and armed. Hiccup locked eyes with the Irishman a moment as both expressed a look of panic and defeat.

The dragons were the biggest surprise of all. They were still asleep as other soldiers all rubbed their noses. None seemed panicked by the armed and seemingly aggressive foreigners that surrounded them and held blades to their faces.

_Mountain Mint? Do they have that this far South?_

They were completely encircled and had been caught totally by surprise. Their dragons, probably due to whatever plants were being rubbed appreciatively into their noses had not even noticed the large group of soldiers surrounding and closing in on them.

Whoever these guys were, they knew what they were doing.

"Debout!"

The Frenchman above Hiccup leaned down and hoisted him up. Wearing only his pants, Hiccup's only blessing was that he had fallen asleep with his prosthetic on. Another group of soldiers hoisted up Luke and then Astrid. In keeping with her true self she tried to fight back, thinking that the three of them were in any condition to fight. Her elbow to the jaw of one soldier was met with an even more forceful punch to her gut which momentarily put Hiccup into a fighting mood.

"Hey! Don't you dare touch her or I swear to God I'll-"

His attempts to break free and seek revenge on the soldier who had struck Astrid was halted as the man who held his arms pulled Hiccup back towards him with little effort.

"Nous combattre, et nous nous defendons. Resistiez pas." The Frenchman whispered into his ear with determination and mild aggravation. He nodded to two other soldiers from the multitude that surrounded them all, and the two came to take Hiccup from the Frenchman's hand, holding him tightly to themselves as another readied some rope.

"Who are you?!" Hiccup yelled at the Frenchman who ignored the chief as he withdrew to the side of another Norman whom Hiccup could discern to be another one of the group's leaders.

"Don't hurt our dragons do you hear me!" Hiccup yelled as he struggled against the grip of the unarguably well trained and toned soldiers. "You southern dragon killing bastards so much as motion a knife towards them I'll-"

Hiccup's threat would again go unheard as one of the soldiers socked him across the jaw. Dejected and knowing any battle that could have been fought was already lost he turned to see Luke, who accepted his own capture with the grace of any Irishman, and letting his body be led by soldiers to the woods. Astrid and Hiccup were soon also being led this way, their dragons the same, slowly following the scent of the plants that were continually being pushed into their nosed while their wings were bound and jaws muzzled, failing to fight back in the throes of ecstasy.

On his way to the woods, Hiccup could catch snippets of the conversation the two leaders were having.

"Vikings, Guy doit parler en premier."

"Ne pas tuer les dragons encore alors? "

"Pour l'instant, laisser le Seigneur décider. Ils semblent être les coureurs des bêtes, nous devons voir ce que nous pouvons apprendre d'eux."

The French, spoken hastily was lost on Hiccup's ear as they were lead away, the soldiers forming around them as they were pushed through the brush. Hiccup kept trying to glance behind himself and the helmets of the soldiers to Toothless, leading the dragons in a daze and trudging through the brush as clumsily as Hiccup did. The only comfort to Hiccup was seeing the fear in the soldier's eyes at the very sight of a Night Fury.

Having the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself as a best friend never lost its charm.

Even this charm though would have to be appreciated later though. The sudden adrenaline burst at waking at the point of a sword had given way to a weakness in Hiccup's leg as he tried to ascertain his position. These men clearly knew how to sneak up on dragons, and that meant having _a lot_ of experience with them. And given what Hiccup had seen in Britain, he couldn't help but fear what that experience was.

* * *

><p>"Well it could be worse."<p>

"How could this possibly get any worse?"

"We could be dead."

Astrid looked incredulously at Luke at his statement. The Celt was adamant about talking while the three of them were kept in a single large jail cell.

"Is this the way all you Irish think?"

"Just the smarter ones." Luke smiled at the compliment he gave himself, Astrid turning away and joining Hiccup in staring down the one guard outside the cell, more so there to keep an eye on the group than to hold them back. The thick bars of the cage were plenty enough for that purpose.

The guard exhibited the expression of a man hardly comfortable with his profession. His only armor was a studded cuirass similar to the one worm by the man who had woken Hiccup that morning, and his armament simply a short but well crafted spear. He sat on a bench outside the cell, flipping his weapon back and forth between his hands. He chose not to stare back at the group that was watching him, and instead kept his head down. A soldier who wishes not to be one rarely enjoys any confrontation, either with weapon or words.

"And here I thought we were far away from anywhere." Hiccup moaned, his mind racing back and forth between his current position and concern for his dragon, wherever he was.

"Considering we had to march all morning to get here I think we were. Whoever these guys are, they were out looking for something in force, coming across us must have been a fluke for them." Luke's council was appreciated, and Hiccup sought to expand upon it.

"But why would they be out in such force?"

"Considering they had the means to subdue our dragons without raising a sword, I guess they were probably out looking for dragons regardless. And they would of course just happen to come across the only ones this side of the Channel who had riders as well."

"You think they're alright?" Astrid broke in at the mention of the dragons, as equally concerned as to what was happening to them as Hiccup and she assumed Luke.

"Well...if I were in charge here and I found saddled dragons and their riders together, I'd probably want to keep them alive until I could get some information from the riders themselves. It's not every day you see a Night Fury with a saddle on its back after all."

Luke leaned back in his seat, confident in his opinion of human nature and accepting his current fate with dignity. Hiccup decided to break away from Luke's typical Irish arrogance and tried to get the attention of the one guard outside the cell.

"Hey." The guard did not raise his head, and kept to alternating the grip on his spear between his fingers.

"Hey!" Hiccup tried again, hoping a hike in volume would serve to rouse the Frenchman from his position.

"Pay attention to us you no good dragon killing Frankish bastard!" Astrid was far more direct in trying to get the guard's attention."

"What she said." Luke joined in as the three tried to get the Frenchman's attention.

"Do you speak any Norse at all? Any Gaelic?" Hiccup tried both questions in their respective languages, being completely inexperienced in French. The soldier finally looked up a moment, grinning out of both curiosity and fear at the group separate from him by a few metal bars.

"Cavaliers de dragons..." He chuckled before resting his head back down and got back to adjusting the grip on his spear.

"I don't think we're getting anything out of him." Luke added as Hiccup and Astrid looked to each other, trying to piece together what the French could mean.

"Cela rendre le jour de Guy." The soldier continued to bob his head up and down in amusement, leaving the three lost in translation.

"Franks, quite the curious lot."

"I swear on my bible if they do to Stormfly what we've seen done to the other dragons I'll...I'll..." Astrid got up from her seat and lashed into the jail bars, enraged at the very thought of her dragon being turned into jewelry.

"Let us out of here you good for nothing dragon murdering scum!" The guard looked up a moment at the sudden outburst of noise before letting his head fall again, feeling more than safe from the admittedly terrifying presence of an angry Astrid by virtue of the iron that divided them.

"C'est vrai, les femmes nordiques sont belles _et_ effrayant."

"Stop talking to yourself or I'll rip out your lungs you cur!" Astrid banged on the rails again, this time warranting no response from the solider as he got back to his trance of spear twirling.

"Still don't think we're getting anything out of him." Luke broke in, trying to save Astrid from beating her hands bloody smacking on the rails. She did indeed stop this, only to drag Luke out of his own seat and throw him against the wall. Hiccup looked on, knowing better than to get in the way of Astrid when she was like this.

"You think this is funny O'Gara? Our dragons could be being butchered right this moment and all you're doing is sitting back there without a care in the world! Do you think Agnes would be acting the same way if it was your head on the line? Huh?"

Luke _very_ gently pushed Astrid back by the shoulders and with an unfazed expression gave a reply.

"I'm more than sure she would. But do try to remember that none of us are actually dragons at the moment. I've already given my reasons why I believe our dragons are unharmed, and I will rather believe in rational thought for the moment than give in to emotions."

"Are you calling me over emotional?!" Astrid pushed Luke back against the wall the moment he tried to break away, bearing her teeth at him in a manner that made the knight smile at the surge in serious emotion flowing from the woman.

"More than we need to be at the moment. If can just remain calm..." He once again started to push her away. "we can settle this with their leader like reasonable people."

Astrid stared deeply at Luke a moment, attempting to force her way through his defense of care free green eyes and make him see the gravity that she saw in the situation. He kept his expression upbeat, refusing to concede his spirits or belief.

_Damned Irish._

She let him go, and began moving around the cell in an effort to calm herself. Hiccup's attempts to call her over to his side were refuted as she kept to pacing one side of the wall, grumbling to herself about how she would tear apart this entire fort once she was out the cell and occasionally slipping in a half concealed jab at Luke and his sense of calm.

"It'll be alright Astrid."

Hiccup continued to try reasoning with his wife as she stormed around. He could tell she was especially frustrated about having been woken in a simple light dress she had been using to sleep in as the weather got warmer the further south they went. Hiccup was also regretting having slept shirtless, the silver cross he had fashioned himself was the only cover he had over his chest as it hung over his barely visible abdominal muscles. Luke had been the only one to sleep in some kind of proper clothing, having both a tunic and his regular pants on when awoken. Still, none of them looked like a particularly reputable person at the moment, which they hoped would not impair diplomacy.

"If they hurt Stormfly..." Was all Astrid could respond with for the occasion. If she had anything more to say, it was stopped when the door to the room was opened. The guard rose and immediately stood at attention to the figure on the opposite side.

"Mon seigneur, les cavaliers de dragons." The guard stood back and gestured with his hand to the cell, the three inhabitants looked curiously as two similarly dressed guards stepped in first and moved off to the side.

The third and final man to enter was markedly different. He was much older, in his late fifties with hair desperately clinging to the last vestiges of blond coloring it must have displayed in better years. The man was tall, just an inch under Hiccup's height and bearing twice the muscle.

_God, even old French guys are stronger than me..._

He was not quite as armored as the other three men, forgoing a cuirass and greaves and instead only bearing a set of overly ornate arm guards. He wore a long tunic, as blue as the darkest ocean with black leather pants that gripped tightly to his legs, making what size and muscle he had all the more noticeable. He stood still a moment, looking over the three poorly dressed and obviously disheveled people before him.

"Eux?" He pointed to the three with mild skepticism.

"Oui mon seigneur."

The old man eyed the three curiously before pulling up the small bench the original guard had been sitting at. Hiccup, Astrid and Luke all stayed quiet, sensing a strange confidence emanating off the Frank.

"Hello Vikings." Hiccup looked to Astrid and Luke, all instantly surprised and relieved this man whom they were supposing to be the leader spoke their language.

"You speak Norse?" Hiccup asked, surprised the tongue was spoken this far South.

"Not all Normans have abandoned the old ways. Now...let us try our manners again. Hello."

"Hello..." Hiccup began speaking for the three of them. "My name is Hiccup. This is my wife Astrid, and our friend Luke."

The Frank looked at them with a cocked head, amused at the statement.

"Hic-cup? This is your name?" His accent was clearly French, but not as heavy as those of the guards, indicating he was perhaps not as much a Frenchman as those that surrounded him.

"Yes it is, what is yours?"

The old man leaned back in the bench, considering the great pride and respect that was held for his own designation.

"Guy. Guy de Falaise. Servant to the excellent Duke Robert and lord of this land."

Hiccup would have begun to mention his own title-as simple as it was-before Astrid cut him off in anger.

"Where are our dragons?" She was direct and terse in her tone, eliciting a smile of delight from Guy that only served to further enrage her.

"Ah yes...the dragons. They are alive...for now."

Astrid shook the bars of the cell, staring daggers at the Frenchman as he continued.

"Easy...Astrid. I have taken great pains to ensure their safety, considering how many of my men are looking to kill them at the moment."

"While I'm grateful for this, why?" Hiccup asked, not sure why his captor was being so generous but hoping for a continuation of such hospitality.

"It is not every day we find a Night Fury with a saddle on its back. Especially after we had considered it gone from the area after it attacked Paris a few weeks ago. Which then leads to the question...why did you attack Paris?"

Guy's question caught Hiccup off guard, its insinuation taking a moment to sink in.

"Pear...'s? Never heard of or been to the place. My Night Fury is not the one who did that if that's what you think."

Guy viewed Hiccup with considerable doubt, finding the prospect of two Night Furies in his area a difficult thought to believe.

"We are actually trying to pursue that Night Fury to capture it."

Guy showed visible interest in the statement and pressed on.

"Ah Vikings, always the adventurers aren't you? I suppose one would have to be in order to ride the beasts. Why then, if you speak the truth do you pursue this demon?"

"We're uh..." Hiccup looked over to Astrid, knowing he was blatantly admitting the truth to her for the first time. "We're seeking to reconnect it with my Night Fury, in the hopes that they can...uh...mate." He finished the sentence awkwardly, further teasing Guy's interest.

"Mating? Hahaha...mating devils, I've never heard of such a thing!"

"They are not devils Frenchman." Luke spoke up from the back of the cell. "I too was once a believer of such things. That was until I was cast ashore on this man's island. They live in harmony with the dragons, and as attested to by that Timberjack of mine you have captive I have learned firsthand just how wonderful of creatures they are."

The testimony drew Guy's attention, both to the words and the distinctive Irish accent that spoke them.

"Harmony? With dragons? Impossible." The Frank was very direct in his beliefs. "There are only two sides in our struggle against these demons. Either we submit to them and their wickedness and destruction...or we dominate them and put an end to their evil. I...prefer the latter strategy."

Hiccup's gaze on the Frenchman narrowed, a steady rage building up within him the more Guy spoke, as he continued to do.

"And so, by the grace of my own lord I have been given the resources to truly accomplish such a mission. All fifty five years of my existence I have been about this business, and I and my soldiers have learned much about them ever since my grandfather set foot here. It is with such knowledge built up over a century that we have become so adept at capturing them...as Guillemot has done to you. We are warriors, artisans, and masters of our trade."

"And...what trade is that?"

Hiccup asked, wary of the possibly uncomfortable answer. Guy drew a knife from his boot, and motioned one of the guards to come to his side. The three in the cell were shocked as he carelessly plunged the blade into the cuirass of the guard, and equally as surprised when the man hardly flinched, and the blade was pulled away to reveal hardly a dent in the brown studded shell.

"Four layers of Gronckle skin and steel strips. Only a well swung battle axe can make a serious mark in it. This is not all though. We also can make many fine oils and crèmes for healing from their poisons, saliva and urine. The scales go to more feminine uses, although when ground they can also make some quite brilliant paints. The claws and talons are often given to the serfs from which they can craft fine farm tools, and sometimes the soldiers even use them for crude weapons."

Guy stood, all three prisoners eyeing him with contempt for what he was describing.

"With domination, there comes the ability to exploit. There is a need out there...Hic-cup."

Guy began to pace, hands behind his back and boastful in his tone.

"There is a need among the people for materials. Serfs need tools to farm, priests need things to heal, wives need things to make them beautiful...and most importantly soldiers need armor to fight. Every soldier needs to please the Duke, every serf needs to please his lord, and every woman needs to please her man. I provide Normandy with the finest of goods to achieve all these ends."

The Norman leaned turned to face the three prisoners, each seething at his description.

"What we do is for the good of all peoples. We eradicate the great plague that destroys our villages and kills our finest knights, and we in turn put them to good use. No point in letting such valuable bodies go to waste is there?"

"You savage bastard..." Astrid growled towards the Norman to little result. Hiccup and Luke remained quiet, brooding on their contempt and bidding the Frenchman to continue.

"Without men like me, neither serf nor knight could reap such bounty. Without our medicine people would die. Without our art, no woman would go loved. Without our armor and weapons I would never have allowed the Duke to take so many of my men to go on the Crusade. Without-"

"Wait! Wait...wait...the what?" Luke quickly broke in, picking up on the strange term; Hiccup and Astrid equally curious about what the man before them was describing.

"You have not heard?" Guy furrowed his brow in interest. "I would figure by the cross this man wears you would know of such a thing."

Hiccup looked to Luke, feeling as though the Irishman had been holding back a tenant of his new faith from him. O'Gara only looked at him with bewilderment, equally unsure of what was being mentioned.

"A few years ago His Holiness called for a great campaign to take back the Holy Land. I sent my best knights and soldiers to join the Duke Robert in his endeavor."

"Why didn't _you_ go?" Astrid asked, still furious at the cold slaughter of dragons having been described to her. For the first time in the situation Guy showed a visible sadness, a regretful state.

"I was struck with illness at the time of departure. My only son-Charles- has gone in my place...but I would give the world to join him now that I am recovered. I am alas stuck here, continuing my trade."

"You trade in blood!" Astrid rattled the cage again, causing the two other guards that had followed Guy into the room to take a forward step forward in an effort to intimidate. It did not work.

"Illness my ass! You're a coward! A coward who kills dragons for sport and coin! You bastard!" She rattled the cage again is fury. "Don't hurt my dragon do you hear me!"

Guy laughed outright at the furious angst that came from the woman still held back by the iron bars.

"_You're_ dragons? Hilarious. No man...or woman...can _own_ a dragon. How you have come to saddle yours I can only assume to some black magic of sorts.

"I can attest it is not magic my most noble captor..." Luke broke in, showing some welcome respect towards the Norman as he spoke. "I have come to train mine in following the ways devised by this man-He pointed to Hiccup- and his mother, and I can assure you that sorcery and spells have not part in it. It is friendship-"

"Friendship!-Guy laughed-One cannot be friends with dragons. To be a friend is to have emotion, to love, to sacrifice, to protect. Dragons are cold, heartless creatures without remorse or emotion. They are a scourge upon us all, a scourge I eradicate per the will of His Holiness."

Guy looked at the group with skepticism before settling on the cross that hung over Hiccup's chest.

"I am surprised you still carry crosses considering the blasphemy you perform."

Astrid kicked and lashed out at the steel bars in such a furious manner that the guards who had taken a step forward before in confidence took a step back now in fear. Even Hiccup and Luke hunched over in shock as Astrid pressed her face to the bars, gritting her teeth in absolute wrath at Guy.

"The man who brought us your faith was able to see past his own prejudices and accepted dragons before he was killed by someone like you! You have no right to say that we are not believers in Christ after what we've went through you Norman bastard!"

Forgoing his confidence, Guy leered his neck back, finally coming to see just why the women of the North were held in such high regard.

"He was killed protecting me from an intolerant and arrogant fool like you! A fool who gave me this-she pointed to the faint but visible scar running up her left cheek from where she had been struck by Bishop O'Neill during her combat with him-because I dared to accept his faith and believe men like him and dragons could get along."

Astrid's tone became more direct and serious, a still bitter memory of the loss of a short lived friendship pulsing through her. Hiccup kept a close and worried eye on her, knowing that Daniel O'Rourke's death had left her with great faith in Christianity, and equal skepticism to many of its other practitioners.

"He believed that dragons and Christians like you could get along, could reconcile differences and live in harmony as we do. He gave me this-she pulled out Daniel's cross from beneath her night dress to the interest of the guards-because he trusted and loved what we have done enough to want to become a part of it."

Her voice fell to a low volume, but was at its most direct and accusatory.

"People like you...people like you have no right to accuse me_ or_ my husband of impiety."

Guy held his head back, moved by the sentiment of the woman opposite a set of steel bars. The room was quiet, the threat of a woman scorned hung on the mouths of the French, and in doing so granted an opportunity for an Irishman to speak.

"She speaks the truth lad, that man who died was my friend, and the man who killed him my enemy." Luke stood, coming to the front of the bars without fear and delighted by the prospect of rational conversation.

"And if I were to call myself a true Christian, I would certainly follow in the steps of a man who sacrifices himself for others, wouldn't you?"

O'Gara smiled at the clever theological remark, which Guy caught and contemplated for a moment before continuing.

"So then how is it that you have come to ride the beasts? Neither of you asides from...her...seem to be the most threatening or capable of persons."

Hiccup let his shoulders fall to his side, accepting the ridicule he was used to and preparing the story that made him forget his inferiority in body with his dominance in soul.

"Dragons are actually a lot like people. If you treat them with dignity and respect, they'll be your friend. If you keep killing them..." Hiccup hung on the word for a moment, insinuating his dislike for the Norman. "...they'll keep fighting you.

Guy kept an interested expression much to Hiccup's relief as the chief continued to speak.

"Back on my island seven years ago I had built a device to take down dragons, and the only time I used it was when I downed Toothless. I-

"Tooth-less?"

"I'll explain later."

Hiccup went on to relay the same story he had to so many other people, about the moment he had almost killed his best friend, about their bond established in the cove, of Astrid's envy and eventual acceptance, and of the discovery and defeat of the Red Death. It was at this point that Guy stopped him, enthralled but skeptical of his story.

"So then, your village accepted dragons following this victory? They could not possibly have been so immediately willing to accept a peace with such beasts after all that had happened. How did you establish such a peace?" Guy asked, interested in how a union of man and dragon could come to be.

"Well Berk has been-"

"Berk?" Guy's question denoted his surprise at the name. It occurred to Hiccup in that moment that despite his entire explanation, he had forgotten the name of his own home.

_Idiot._

"Uh...yeah? You've heard of it?" Hiccup asked with mild interest.

"Well...I am a Norseman myself you know." Guy smiled as he went to explain.

"My clan came here shortly after Rollo established his control over the region. Ever since we have been entrusted with great power and respect by every Duke that we pledge allegiance to. While we may speak the languages of the continent, we have not abandoned our origins despite how much we may try to act like these continentals. I am still as much a Viking as you...Hiccup. And this is why my family continues our tradition of dragon hunting."

"Okay...what does this have to do with Berk then?"

"I may be a man of the France, but I am not _totally_ unknowing of what goes on in the land of my ancestors."

"Berk...your grandfather lived there?" Hiccup was becoming quickly interested in Guy's story, perhaps even more so than Guy had been in Hiccup's.

"Our clan left just after Rollo had established his hold over this land. Well, most of our clan left. A few I know stayed behind. The last time I checked though there was only one remaining. I had sailed there for her wedding back...oh it must be at least 20 years ago now. And of course I wished to partake in some of the glorious dragon combat that...until I suppose you came along was such an integral part of life there."

"What was her name? Which clan did she marry into?" Hiccup's thoughts were racing with the possibilities.

"Believe she went by...uh...Valka! That's it-ended up marrying the chief...uh...Stoick I believe it is? Is he still around?"

Hiccup's eyes opened with a realization he had not been prepared for, Astrid likewise turned to him with agape expression at the changing circumstances before them.

"Uh...no. Stoick is...no longer the chief. I am. I'm...I'm his son."

Guy was quick to catch on the implications Hiccup gave as his voice trembled at his own explanation. The two Vikings, one fresh from the North and another a son of France looked at each other with a slowly building sense of fraternity and hopes that the conversation could begin to move forward in a more positive and understanding direction.

"Hiccup?" O'Gara called to the chief from behind him.

"Y-yeah Luke?"

"Your cousin's mean."


	4. Rachetées

**"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." -C.S Lewis.**

**Much thanks to my Beta **_The Writer Es._

**Please enjoy this chapter and please review. They are what keep me motivated while writing these long chapters. I'm trying to try and get in the habit of getting a chapter out each Friday-Saturday, and I hope to see you then.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>It had taken a great deal of storytelling concerning Hiccup's mother and recent years, some of Astrid's intimidating rage and a fair helping Luke's Irish wit, but by the end of the day the trio had gotten out their cell, into their own clothes and were fed with enough meat to hold them over for at least a week. While they were grateful that their provisions had been brought to the fort and gone <em>mostly<em> untouched (though Luke was insistent that some of his silver was missing) the air around the eating hall was tense as the group finished their dinner.

Thirty Frenchmen ate along the same table, all carefully watching the morning's prisoner, his wife and peculiar Irish friend as they sat as guests of honor by the place of the lord. Guy had been quite adamant and blunt to the assembly of soldiers, threatening to turn any many who touched the guests or the dragons into a cloak. While more direct than Hiccup was used to, he was relieved when it seemed to work and the soldiers ate in silence, albeit with visible suspicious and glancing eyes.

Hiccup's hand wrapped over his abdomen, clenching at the stomach that felt ready to burst after more boar than he should have eaten. After a lengthy conversation with Guy throughout the day on what it was like on Berk and on a few of his many adventures, the Norman was taking some time to talk with Luke about Ireland and their own experiences in draconic combat. While Hiccup was unsettled with Luke's vivid descriptions of combat, he held his tongue as he noted how the Celt was gently reinforcing the idea that such a man was not what the Gael was anymore. Guy's expression became more contested with each story. Hiccup noted how it still showed joy at hearing of disembowelments and decapitations, but at the same time interest that the Irishman had changed his ways.

"Hiccup."

Astrid quietly called to him, distracting him from the grisly details of how Luke had taken on two Sea Shockers in the middle of a rain storm.

"Dragons..."

She mouthed the word to him, making him realize he had to address the last major issue of the night. Despite his repeated requests, Guy had made it clear that they could not see their dragons until after dinner. Though Hiccup was less than enthusiastic about the request and Astrid quite skeptical, the group had agreed, not wanting to insult their host and recent familial addition with arrogance. Now the time was right, or hopefully right enough.

"Uh...Guy?"

"Mmh?"

"Uh, considering how we are pretty much done with dinner, could we...uh...you know, see our dragons now?"

"Ah!" Guy exclaimed with a smile as he quickly pushed his chair aside and rose. "Yes! Mes amis, c'est le temps pour moi de recontre les dragons! Souhaitez-moi bonne chance!"

The Norman turned towards the door of the meal hall, Hiccup Astrid and Luke all rushing to meet him lethargically with full stomachs. The soldiers in the hall were silent as they watched the lord depart with the dragon riders. The group could feel their stares against their back, none too happy that they were being denied the great honor of slaying a Night Fury. The fact that such a beast was ridden by a man who looked not at all as a true man of strength should was equally as insulting to the soldiers, who were quick to whisper gossip and thoughts amongst themselves as the three made their way outside.

With the dawning of the summer came the prolonging of daylight, and despite the hour there was still some semblance of a sun on the horizon to paint the world orange long enough for the group to make their journey through the castle grounds. They had seen part of it as they were transferred from the cell to the dining hall, but it was now as they began the long walk that they took in the structure.

The walls though not of truly magnificent height were tall enough to dissuade an attack and gave a sense of awe to the three as they viewed the stone encirclement. Battlements dotted the fortification every hundred yards or so. They walked upon an earthen courtyard, rather unimpressive brown dirt padded down to the point of true firmament as it had been in the Edinburgh market. The hall they had been eating in was one of many extrusion coming from a central keep, a tall rectangular building of grey stone that certainly looked as though it had been the target of many foes in the past both human and dragon.

"This land has been ours since the time of Rollo. It was my father though who did most of the work on the central keep and the fortifications. I had told him a wall was useless at the time as we had no real enemies in other lords. That has been...changing however."

"Why?" Luke asked as Astrid and Hiccup continued to try and take in every single detail of the castle, as foreign a structure to them as a church had been two years ago.

"Let us just say that some nearby lords and knights have been...envious...or our success and...disappointed...in some recent developments. Over there you will see a leather tanner, where much of our armor is made."

Hiccup looked towards the stall that Guy mentioned and noticed how it was empty, devoid of any activity of recent. There seemed to be no hides being dealt with, no indication of any work being done for at least several months.

_Odd..._

"And over there is where our apothecary would be making some of our potions and crèmes..."

The octagon shaped stone building was kept close to the keep, but was devoid of any light or indication of habitation, as though it had been empty for quite a while.

_Why did he say would that time?_

They made their way towards a gate, which after a short shouting match in French Guy got open as the four exited and took an immediate right onto a road that led off of that to the castle and followed it a mile. The walk was enough to work up a cramp in Hiccup's abdomen, but it was not enough to distract him from the odd serenity of the occasion as they made their way through a narrow stretch of wood.

"Something isn't right here." Hiccup whispered in Luke's ear as the two men fell behind Astrid and Guy, the former refusing to let up on her suspicions about the Norman.

"I know what you mean lad; too quiet for a man who claims to do so much business."

"It's weird." The two separated as they continued the walk another half mile as Guy went on about the history of the castle. Hiccup, though impressed with the architecture of the structure was not in the mood for history at the moment. His thoughts continued to wander to the grim possibility that Toothless, Stormfly and Agnes could be hurt, or even worse. That Guy may have been lying to them this entire time. That they could be led into a trap.

Worse still, Hiccup's full stomach churned what it could at the prospect of seeing where these dragons were kept. Where they were held and probably tortured before being brought to the knife life a pig. Where they were held in chains as they awaited a certain death to be made into armor and jewelry and paint.

"Luke?"

He asked quietly as the group ascended a slight elevation in the trail.

"Yeah?"

"If they...if they have hurt or killed the dragons...do you think we can take him?"

O'Gara smiled at the sentiment as he sighed out a response.

"Let's just say I don't need a sword to kill a man."

"Good." Hiccup's own words made him uneasy. Though he was hoping for the best, he was prepared for the worst.

To see his best friend already dead before him, being prepared to become somebody's ornament or trophy.

"Here we are!" Guy exclaimed as the group neared a large rock outcrop.

It was a cliff face, adorned graciously with lush moss and small patches of grass that grew on flat enough extensions of dark rock. Two soldiers, unfortunate enough not to have a break on shift at such a time to eat dinner made themselves at attention as Guy approached, giving him the formalities one would to a lord.

"Bonsoir mes soldats."

"Bonsoir mon Seigneur, qu'ils sont qui?'

"Les cavaliers du dragons, ouvre la porte."

The soldiers looked to each other a moment, trying to show respect to their leader but worried at the proposition.

"Mon Seigneur..."

"Ouvre...la porte." Guy was much more forceful in his tone and enough so to spur the guards to action as they pulled open the large wooden gate that gave entrance to the cave. While not a perfect fit for the high entrance, it served as enough of a barrier so as to impede unwanted people from entering, although Hiccup knew any dragon worth its tail could easily get through such a barrier if loose.

It was the fact that the gate showed no signs of such an attempt that worried him.

"My grandfather first used this cave to just carelessly discard whatever dragons were killed. It was my father when he was young who encouraged my grandfather-Arnold-to start using the dragons for materials, and by the time of Bertrand-my father's- ascension to lordship it had been fully converted into our holding cells for the dragons that we caught."

Guy, Astrid and Luke took torches from the wall as the four continued inwards across a fairly flat rock surface, each footfall reverberating off the cave walls somewhere in the darkness beyond their vision.

"We find that it is easier to capture the dragons and bring them here for...disposal...than it is to kill them on sight and then spend a few days dragging their two and half ton carcasses back to the castle."

Hiccup winced at the detail as they moved further inward. He took note of how quiet the cave was. He had expected chaos, had expected every dragon to be pounding on their cage as though their lives depended on it, which it kind of did.

"Yep, _way_ too quiet." Luke quickly whispered into Hiccup's ear as the two continued inwards.

"How many do you have here now?" Astrid asked, audible wrath in her voice at hearing of how the beasts she knew as friends were reduced to calculated weights and utility figures. Guy's pause before answering went noticed by all.

"Uh...before yours arrived this morning...just one. Ah! Voila!" Guy stopped in front of a set of iron bars. A series of groans and warbles were heard from the dark inside, sending shivers of fear up Hiccup's spine.

"Open it. NOW!" His voice gained a sudden sense of determination as Guy quickly undid the doors. A shadow, barely visible against the black of the cave immediately sprang forward, tackling Hiccup to the ground and giving him a single long but solid lick across the face.

"Toothless! Toothless!"

Guy took several steps back as the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself was quick to switch from joy at seeing his best friend to wrath as it turned to face the stranger whom the Night Fury knew to be behind the separation.

"Toothless...easy. He's a..._friend_." Guy had almost disappeared into the darkness of the surrounding cave, his persona of a fearless dragon hunter rendered void by the presence of the Night Fury. His attempt at hiding was quickly halted by Astrid, who charged into the darkness and pushed him against the wall.

"Where's Stormfly!" So help me God if you already turned her into necklaces I'll-"

Her threat was broken by a familiar cry from within the same cell as a blue and gold Nadder stepped forward, cocking her head at her master who was quick to break her threatening stance on the Norman and go to embrace the dragon.

"Stormfly!" Oh you're alright!"

Luke looked to Hiccup through the torchlight as they knew one more dragon was yet to be summoned through the darkness. A single glance was all Hiccup needed to understand the Celt's caution.

"Right. Guy?"

"Yes?" The Norman asked as he slowly reproached his cousin with caution towards the Night Fury.

"Agnes?" Luke called into the darkness.

"Get down!"

Hiccup was quick to drag Guy onto the cave floor as a set of thin but sharp wings soared inches above them before the Timberjack enveloped Luke in said wings and brought him down to the ground.

"Ahh...Good girl!" O'Gara's muffled voice came from beneath the cocooning wings as the others rose back up after the brush with death.

"You know you could have at least waited for us to get down _first_..." Astrid growled at Luke as she got back to inspecting every inch of Stormfly's head through the torch light.

"Well now where would be the fun in that?" O'Gara retorted as Agnes wrapped her wings tightly around her master.

Guy pushed himself up on his aging knees and got his bearings. His expression towards Hiccup could only be described as one of upmost bewilderment.

"What...what was that?"

"Timberjacks. Razor sharp wings that can cut through full grown tress. Extremely dangerous, befriend on sight. Do you not have any around here?" Hiccup asked, amused by the man's state of disarray.

"No...no, not since my father was a boy."

"So they were around here before then?" Hiccup asked.

"Supposedly, although I haven't seen one all my life, only heard the stories from my father."

_Odd_.

Guy approached Hiccup slowly again, Toothless kept a low growl at the back of his throat as the Norman approached. Astrid turned to view the tenuous sight. Luke was still caught in Agnes' clutches.

"Guy...Toothless. Toothless...Guy. He's my cousin, and our friend...for now." Toothless remained wary of the Norman, and started to show his teeth as the Frenchman approached. Guy started to back away as the growl grew more intense.

"It's alright Toothless, we want to be friendly with this man."

"He probably smelled all the other dragons you kept in that cage and knows what happened to them." Astrid let out, her tone showing her continued dislike of the Norman and his past.

"Come on Guy, you can't let him intimidate you. If that had been the case with me I never would have become friends with him. You need to learn to trust them."

"I don't-I don't."

"Yes you do. Come on."

Guy approached tentatively, none too thrilled about touching a Night Fury without a sword in his hand.

"Toothless, be nice." Hiccup was stern towards the dragon. He couldn't afford for whatever inroads he had made with Guy to be spoiled by the dragon's own misgivings.

"It's alright Guy, he won't hurt you. Just give me your hand." Hiccup reached out and clasped the Norman's arm and pulled it forward. "I know you're apprehensive, we've all been there before. You've just got to trust me."

Guy tried pulling his arm back, a mind that had spent half a century dedicated to the slaughter of dragons was now being challenged to show some respect and decency towards the beast.

"I've never met a relative of mine who couldn't change their mind about dragons. Please...cousin."

Hiccup's eyes showed a growing desperation as they flickered in the torchlight, pleading with the Norman for some kind of cooperation. With some extra force in his arm, Hiccup pulled his cousin closer, Toothless had let his growl subside to a murmur at the back of his throat. Slowly and with a hint of trepidation, both dragon and Frenchman approached each other. An old and calloused hand finally slid its way onto the side of the Night Fury's head, and began to rub it back and forth, switching the growl at the back of the dragon's throat from one of suspicion to appreciation, albeit a tenuous one.

"You don't have to kill them Guy. You can live in peace with them."

Guy was quiet for the moment, uncertain eyes locked with those of the Night Fury as an entire lifetime of perceptions and judgments began to crumble at the touch of living, breathing dragon hide.

"Incroyable..."

"There doesn't have to be war between us, you don't have to kill to get what you want out of them. You can work together."

Guy's head hung low, Hiccup could see the change in his face from one of surprise to something much darker, almost remorseful.

"I can only wish you had come here sooner..." Hiccup narrowed his eyes at the cryptic statement. Astrid kept a close eye on the conversation as Luke began to pry himself out of Agnes' wings, feeling he had missed something important.

"What do you mean?"

Guy raised his head and gesture to the other side of the cave.

"Follow."

The Norman was quick to lead the way, and the trio with their dragons was equally as fast to follow as they quickly crossed the expanse of poorly lit darkness and came to another iron gate. Guy leaned against the bars, visibly distraught on his rapidly changing world. In the back of his mind Hiccup started to piece together the recent events and why Guy was suddenly so solemn.

_No work being done._

_Conflict with other lords._

_Only one other dragon being held..._

"Over the-over the past several years we had started to notice a serious decline in our 'catch'. We had at first only considered it to be one of the several lulls that had occurred several times in the past. It has however...persisted. We are finding fewer and fewer dragons."

Guy stopped, the three guests glancing at each other as they began to put the testimony together with the other evidence they had witnessed.

"The amount of product we could make then dipped. My conflicts with the other lords stem from me being unable to fill their orders for dragon skin armor. When I sent my son off on the Crusade with the last of our supply, the lords who had been expecting their own shipments said I was going back on my word, and so we have had to fight with them for the past three years."

"Where did you get this one then?" Luke asked as Guy stopped to swallow.

"The Monstrous Nightmare behind these bars was captured about three months ago. We usually killed them soon after we captured them...but given the rarity of the beasts in recent years, we've kept it alive in case we need to make materials in a hurry."

The cave air, already stagnant grew heavier as a saddening realization came over the group.

"You-you've-"

"You've hunted them down to extinction." Astrid began the statement and Hiccup finished it as a husband and wife do. Guy's silence was more than enough to affirm such a statement.

"Yes...it would appear so." Guy paused for an inflated moment before continuing. "It is only a matter of months before my coffers run dry, and most of the hired soldiers will abandon me. I had hoped that my son would return from the Holy Land with treasure in time to relieve this pressure on me, but I have still not heard any word. I'll be at the mercy of the other lords then."

Guy's confession of impending doom did little to lighten the mood in the cave, and his continuation saw that this feeling persisted.

"I...I thank you for what you have told and shown me Hiccup. But I fear it is too late for me. My world, my life is beyond redemption at this point."

The solemnity of the occasion halted any word from Hiccup or Astrid. Luke, ever true to his Irish self decided the best course of action to address misery was to confront it face on.

"Yeah. Sucks when your entire world view comes crashing down around doesn't it?"

Luke started to approach the Norman, Hiccup and Astrid aghast at the bluntness of the Gael. Guy turned to face O'Gara, surprised at the rather coarse words.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Trust me, that guilt you're feeling will subside in the next few weeks. After that there will be a period where you'll try to do everything you can to help them, and soon that will fade away into an acceptance, and a restoration of normalcy."

Astrid was quick to catch onto what Luke was doing, and a nod to Hiccup affirmed it between the two of them.

"I've been where you are my friend. It's tough...I know. But just because you're a sinner the first half of your life doesn't mean you have to be the same the second."

Guy turned back to the cage, where the low rumble of the Nightmare lurking in the darkness approached.

"Wise council my Irish friend. But...but regardless my domain is doomed. My son is probably gone, fallen on the fields of Otremer by now. My castle will fall to another lord in a few months, life as I know it will end for me soon."

Guy's depression was contagious to the other three, who held their heads down as the aging Norman mourned his own existence. Toothless nudged Hiccup's side, sensing the odd empathy the Viking had for his distant relative. It was the touch of Toothless' skin that began to develop an idea in the back of Hiccup's mind as Guy moved on to further personal mourning.

"You are free to go. I'll escort you back to the castle, and may take your things and continue your adventure as you please."

The faint thuds of the Monstrous Nightmare on the opposite side of the bars grew louder as it approached. Though Hiccup was eager to make another request to Guy, he stopped himself as the dragon neared the bars.

"I will do my best...my best to change."

The head of the Nightmare came to within view. It was a vibrant yellow bordering on orange, and showed curiosity at the figure that leaned against the iron. The firelight reflected of its teeth, having lost their former luster but still white enough to be reflective.

"And try to redeem myself."

Guy's hand with far less trepidation and fear fell from the bars, extending inward and resting on the nose of the beast in feat that commanded of the three observers. The dragon showed little apprehension at the touch of the trapper, and hummed lowly at the touch, feeling the utter remorse ebbing off the Norman.

"You could join us.

The statement caught Astrid and Luke off guard as much as it did the Norman. Hiccup was quick to expand upon the statement.

"We're going to keep pursuing the Night Fury anyways. You might as well join us. We could use a master trapper like yourself if we're going to catch it."

Hiccup could see the less than supportive scowl writ upon Astrid's face but continued in his offer.

"You said you wanted to partake in this...Crusade...that the Pope has called. Come with us and we'll stick together so long as our paths are the same. You can escape the persecution of the other lords, and you can go to the Holy Land and see your son. Join us cousin."

Guy trembled a moment at the offer, knowing its wider implications.

"You-you mean..."

Hiccup smiled at his own response.

"If you're going to be my relative, you've got to learn to fly."

* * *

><p>Teaching Guy to fly proved <em>slightly<em> more difficult than Hiccup's optimism had let on.

Converting a saddle for horse to fit the Nightmare had been the easiest aspect of the ordeal. The trio spent several long days teaching Guy the basics of flight control and maneuver, not wanting to waste time on more complicated aspects of acrobatics that would not be of much use to the aging Norman. Guy was more than willing to stick to the basics for the moment as well, taking longer than most to adjust to the unnatural sensation of being a human soaring amongst the clouds. Hiccup's demonstration of his flight suit only further served to keep the Norman in line, more so intimidating the cousin with its brazenness than impressing him with its innovation.

The days had passed by quickly with training, long warm days amidst the French sun and soaring over pastures and other castles proved to be a welcome respite for the trio and allowed for them to develop a limited if functional friendship with Hiccup's newfound cousin. Still, despite the devotion Guy was showing towards reconciling himself with dragons and learning the ways of the Berkians, the three had their doubts over various aspects of their situation.

Astrid was mostly still bitter over the Norman's past. While she knew forgiveness was part of the new faith she had adopted, it was difficult to be so immediately accepting of a man who had spent the better part of a century dedicated to the slaughter of dragons and their development into mercantile product. Though the thought persisted in the back of her mind that she would likely have become just as impassioned a killer if Hiccup had not come along, it was the fact that Guy killed not out of his own protection but in seeking profit that angered her. Still, she held her tongue for the time as Guy underwent his training and opened up more and more to dragons and vice-versa; though Toothless-by virtue of his intelligence allowing him to understand what had transpired to the dragons that had previously occupied his cell-kept his distance from the Norman. Though Hiccup was trying his hardest to get the two to make amends, she knew that the intricacies of forgiveness were not as developed in the reptilian mind as they were in those of Christian humans.

Hiccup himself was less worried about his new found cousin as he was about the close friendship Luke was developing with Guy, in that it revolved around each exchanging stories about dragon killing and the petty politics of lords and vassals. While Hiccup was appreciative that Guy had come around on his opinion of dragons and that Luke was managing to solidify this change with his camaraderie, the fact that Luke's pleasure in talking about the slaughter of creatures that were now their collective friends dismayed him. Was Luke really as bonded with his Timberjack as he let on?

Luke's own worry was of Hiccup. While the Celt had been content to leave the Norman behind to face his fate, Hiccup's insistence that the lord come with them bothered the Gael. From what Guy had told them, the Night Fury they were looking for had been last seen heading South-East. There was a nagging fear in Luke's mind that Guy and the trio would never part ways.

That this Night Fury may very well lead them to the Crusade itself.

Guy certainly seemed impassioned to reach the Holy Land, and Luke couldn't really blame him. It was a tempting thought to the warrior to join his Christian brothers in such a noble undertaking as to take back the holy places from the infidel. But while the knight would revel in such an occasion, he worried more so about how it would affect his friends. The Celt was more than familiar with the intricacies and emotions that furious armed combat could bring.

Aside from a few sporadic anecdotes related to him over the past year and half, he couldn't think of any similar occasions befalling his comrades. He knew if they were to be engaged in such an action, it may not be for the best for any of them.

Such were the concerns prevalent on each person's minds as they ate a light dinner in one of castle courtyards. There were several soldiers watching them, still skeptical of their lord befriending the last dragon they had ready for slaughter. The Nightmare-named Cindre-had quickly developed a bond with Guy as it wrapped around the Norman while the group ripped dried bacon fat apart to fill their stomachs after a long day of practice. Guy's face was notably wind burned, giving some youthful color back to his aged face as he relayed an anecdote about his son.

"But by the time Charles had worked up the nerve to speak to her, the Duke of Orleans had already swooped in and taken her! Oh the poor boy was devastated, but he got over it in time. Can't be a boy and not face rejection once can't you?"

"I'll eat to that!" Hiccup proclaimed as he gave Astrid a playful look, harkening back to their years before Toothless when he had simply been the awkward boy in the forge pining after a girl that even now he was convinced to be too far out of his league. Astrid leaned into him, knowing exactly what he was thinking as Guy took a drink to ease his dry throat.

"So Hiccup, when do we depart?" Guy was eager for an answer, brimming with newfound energy now that he considered himself competent in riding his new friend.

"Well, I guess as soon as we can, and then just keep following the leads."

"Bon bon. I look forward to my travels."

"Who will look after your castle?" Astrid inquired, by now at least somewhat comfortable talking with the Norman, who scoffed at the mention of the structure.

"Eh, leave it to the soldiers to fight over. When I get to Outremer I shall find my own land and settle there amidst the holy places. With any luck, my son has already found a suitable place."

Guy sighed at the wishful thinking, and Hiccup could tell the man cared deeply for his son, fighting in a far away and foreign land.

"And you Hiccup? If you had the chance to conquer your own land somewhere out there, what would you do with it?"

It was a question that came quite out of the blue that Hiccup had to genuinely think about, having never considered such a thing. He was a tamer of dragons and a competent blacksmith, though he had never considered following in the expansionist legacies of other great men who called themselves Vikings.

_Hiccup the Conqueror...has a nice ring to it..._

"No. I don't think there is a conqueror in me. Maybe of dragons, but not of men."

Hiccup smiled at the statement and the irony that he and Astrid understood. He actually hated being called the dragon conqueror, but some people still insisted on addressing him as such. As a result, he had begun to take some pride in the unfortunate title. His two victories of note against the Red Death and Drago's Bewilderbeast only served to further his pride.

"Eh, suit yourself then. Though with God behind the backs of our armies there should be plenty of land to go around once the infidel is defeated."

Hiccup gave a cautious smile at the hopeful thinking, contemplating its implications.

Christianity was still new to Berk, and despite its adoption the island remained quite isolated from the rest of Christendom. While there was some trade done with Ireland, Christians came to Berk, Berk did not go to Christians.

While most of Luke's stories and tales of Britannia and the continent involved draconic encounters, he would occasionally open up about 'the Infidel'. One night, bolstered by mead he had confessed to Hiccup that he had been the one that had initially brought up the idea of converting Berk for the sake of finding soldiers to part for Iberia to fight the Infidel there. The knight eventually broke down into an emotional wreck, blaming himself for Daniel's death and Hiccup's near demise at O'Neill's poisoning because of his martial ambition.

This new war intrigued Hiccup. It had been made to sound like a highly organized affair, drawing people from across the Christian world together to unite against this enemy, whoever they were. Luke's information on just exactly who 'the Infidel' were was spotty at best, beginning and ending with "they took over the Holy Land." Guy's definition was no better, and intrigue began to grow in the back of Hiccup's mind as to just who his cousin was so intent on fighting.

"I'm sure there will be, but I'm just the chief of Berk for the moment, don't need to be a ruler of distant lands for the time."

"Not that it'll mean anything the further away we go." Luke's sudden statement drew Hiccup's attention quickly as it seemed to undermine the chief's pride.

"What does that mean?" O'Gara smiled as Agnes perched her neck over the Irishman's shoulder as Luke gently stroked a knife over her head in a soothing manner.

"Perhaps around here where your relatives are prominent chiefdom may mean something, but I assure you that such a title would mean nothing the further away from Viking influence we go. It's a whole other world on the continent, one not particularly amicable towards your kind."

"And it is to you?" Astrid struck back, taking Luke's words as an uncalled for insult against her husband.

"No one is particularly nice to an Irishman, lest not ourselves. The key is in title and station. I was a knight back in Ireland, and so I commanded respect. Being chief of a small island nobody's heard of is not going to get you anywhere around here. If we want to make inroads with continentals, you've got to act like one."

"What does that mean?" Hiccup implored, noting the look Guy was exchanging with Luke, as though they had been planning something for a while and had been keeping it a secret.

"It means you need a title, Sir Hiccup."

* * *

><p>It had taken all of a minute inside the chapel of Guy's castle for Hiccup and Astrid to agree they needed something of the like back on Berk.<p>

It was a fairly well sized structure, a single elliptical hall of grey stone that rested close to the castle's central keep. Two dozen rows of dark wooden benches each sat on opposite side of a single aisle that led to the altar, raised upon two steps at the far end. The aisle itself was lined with wide arches carved with swirling rivets and adorned with crosses upon each column.

It was the windows though that garnered the most attention from the two Vikings.

Near the altar where they stood, three large arched windows absorbed the last sunlight of the day as it passed through the pastel coloring of the glass. Though the back of the chapel was becoming increasingly dark as night began its hold over the earth, the last glimmers of sunlight passing through the windows irradiated the altar and those near it in sparkling dots of pink, blue, green and purple.

The dragons, despite the urgent pleas of the chapel priest that they be denied access were allowed in by Guy's demand and stayed in the darkness of the back for lack of space in the front.

In this space, Hiccup knelt before the altar, head down and contemplative. His thoughts were revolving around prayers for good fortune and safety to his new and singular God as well as trying to guess just how exactly this ceremony would go. Astrid stood off to his right, adorned in the finest clothes she had packed, her axe inverted in her hands with the blade resting on the ground. O'Gara stood opposite her, his sword sheathed. He held Hiccup's own short sword with his two hands by his waist, as Guy had requested Hiccup separate himself from the blade for the sake of the ceremony.

The Norman stood before Hiccup, sword out of scabbard and extended to his side. He made the sign of the cross over the young Viking as he began to speak.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, do you swear upon your honor to defend your faith, no matter where you go?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to upon your honor to speak only the truth, and to act only in a way appropriate for your station?"

"I do."

"Do you swear upon your honor to defend the poor and destitute, your fellow Christian brothers and sisters?"

"I do."

"Do you swear upon your honor to defend your lady, your family and all those who rely upon you?"

"I do.

"Do you swear upon your honor to uphold these principles until you are joined with the Holy lord?"

"I do."

Guy raised his sword upright before placing its flat end upon Hiccup's left shoulder. Infused with a reverence for his place and the occasion, Hiccup could feel a slight shiver race up his spine at the light touch of the steel.

"If this is so, I-Sir Guy de Falaise- confer upon you the title and station of knight of Christendom."

Guy raised the sword off Hiccup's left shoulder, let it hover over the Viking's head and then rested it down upon the right one.

"Sir Hiccup, rise and take your sword with which you shall perform your duties."

Hiccup rose, balancing himself well enough on his metal leg to exude some manner of confidence as he turned to Luke, who held out the newly conferred knight's sword, bowing his head as a sign of honor as Hiccup took it and affixed it to his side.

"Welcome to the club lad."

"Thank you Luke."

Hiccup turned around to his wife, who gave a bow of respect at the new knight, but cracking sly smile. Her husband, the talking fishbone was being anointed a warrior, on par with Luke in station.

"What?" Hiccup asked as he approached her huffing in amusement at her smile.

"Oh nothing SIR Hiccup!" She started giggling as she proclaimed the title in her nasally impression of her husband. Hiccup couldn't help but start laughing as well as Astrid began to lose her composure.

"I think it sounds nice." Hiccup retorted, surprised at the outburst but still smiling at his wife's own happiness.

"Oh...oh just thinking about how there should be a Sir...no..."

"LADY Astrid?" Hiccup began laughing again as he caught on to his wife's train of thought. Luke and Guy exchanged a glance of interest as the exchange went on, neither having dealt with laughter following their own knighting ceremonies.

"Oh I'm just thinking about why you get a title and I don't."

"Because..." Hiccup approached her spreading his legs apart and taking Astrid in his arms. "I need a title to get by, you're intimidating enough as it is."

"I'll take that as a compliment?" Astrid replied, grinning at her husband's closeness and the witty remark.

"That's what it was meant as." He finished as he closed on for a kiss on the lips, which she was more than happy to allow. They held such a form for several moments, the pastel radiance of the stained glass enveloping the couple in a magenta glow. Time seemed to stop for the husband and wife, the lady and the knight.

"This is still a house of God you two..." Luke began, his dry if playful humor enough for the two Vikings to break away.

"Well, certainly better than my own ceremony, I'll say that." Guy added his own humor to the moment, earning looks of playful pity from the other three. The Norman instead turned to the darkness that was overcoming the upper reaches of the stained glass and to the impending night that it implied.

"Now...Sir Hiccup, we are ready to depart. Let us pray that our journey is fruitful."

"I couldn't imagine a nicer place to make such a prayer."

"And _that_ is why you need to see more of the continent my friend."


	5. City Eternal

**When in Rome?**

* * *

><p>The French countryside proved to pleasure the eye even more than the British. As the group traversed across the rolling hills, fields of flowers and crops and vanished into virgin woodland for the nights to rest, the three newcomers to the continent could understand why Guy's ancestors had come to this land in the first place. Normandy gave way to Picardy, and Picardy to the Argonne, Argonne to Alsace, and from Alsace they took two days to wind their way through the Alps.<p>

Every day they would try to find some villages from which to extract information. The only disadvantage was that Guy had to do all the talking due to his being the only one of them proficient in French. Even then, the lord found his polished and refined manner of speaking awarded him little respect amongst peasants who often ridiculed his speech and mannerisms at every turn. What little information they did give him indicated that the Night Fury was heading further and further to the South and East. Hiccup had sworn on several occasions to have heard it nearby in the Alps, until he had to concede the logical point to Luke that it was most likely just the roaring winds native to the majestic peaks.

Entrance to Italy removed the French countryside from its spot of dominance in beauty.

Though Guy was less impressed given his greater familiarity with Southerly climates, Luke, Astrid and Hiccup-all strictly reared in the cold of the North- couldn't help but marvel at the lush farmland of the Po Valley. The weather was exceptionally warm for the Vikings, the lone Gael faring little better. Hiccup had known May to be at least somewhat mild on Berk, with temperatures sometimes reaching the point where a coat did not have to be worn. It seemed as though Italy was trying to cook them alive.

More of their precious little silver had to be spent on buying lighter clothes as the three Northerners sweltered in the unfamiliarly strong sunlight. Hiccup had never had to fear the sun making him sweat by virtue of its presence alone. For it to be this strong, and so early in the year made him strongly consider having the group fly at night. Their skin was growing red with each day they spent flying, their fair complexions unready for the powerful and steady onslaught of solar radiance that joined the usual windburn in making their skin-and so existence itself-painful and difficult to deal with.

It was due to the course of their pursuit and the need for a day of rest that they listened to Guy's advice and made towards a city Hiccup had heard of many times from Luke. It sat upon seven hills, and even at an initial aerial glance the monuments and epic structures of the place amazed the Vikings.

Rome-the eternal city- was alluring to the group as they set up a camp a few miles outside it one night. All wanted to take an opportunity to explore the fabled city, former capital of a legendary empire and currently host to the seat of Hiccup and Astrid's new faith. Luke had drawn the short straw, and was resigned to watching the dragons for the next day while the Vikings and the Norman took advantage of a rare day of relaxation to tour the city, see the exotic market wares and of course investigate new leads on their pursuit.

* * *

><p>"Wow."<p>

It was the third time Hiccup had exhaled the word as he continued to marvel at the structure before him. Guy's castle paled in comparison to the structure in both size and intricacy. Hiccup couldn't see around to the opposite end of the structure as the circular walls curved inward upon themselves, presenting a 360 degree facade of aged, deteriorating but still quite impressive marble that made Hiccup all of a sudden feel insecure about his own size.

He could surmise that something important was going on inside the structure as droves of Romans poured into the arena, chatting amongst themselves about something. The Italian tongue amused Hiccup in how it oscillated with each word, as though the severity of conversation changed with every sentence. Whatever was going on inside seemed to be important, and Hiccup was itching to find out what. For the moment though he had to maintain his post and could only observe the Italians of varying class, dress and health meander into the coliseum with fascination as he continued to study the fabulous marble facade that concaved away from him.

He, Astrid and Guy had split up a little while after entering the city; dismayed to find that it, like most cities smelled of urine. The only comfort was that Italian urine seemed to have a lighter, more delicate aroma as it decayed in the city gutters, whereas the Scottish urine of Edinburgh refused to decay without a fight, and the result was a noxious and powerful ammonia that required exceptional self discipline to navigate through.

Astrid had decided to check out the markets on the East side of the city to see if she could find any Norse or Gaelic speakers and get information out of them. Hiccup worried slightly that she would break down in a rage at seeing more dragon hides for sale-as he had seen some of the nobility wearing them as they entered the arena-but she had given him his word that she would be as stealthy as possible. He could only hope.

Guy had decided to investigate some of the nearby churches and use his knowledge of Latin to see what the clergy had to say about the rouge Night Fury. The fact that the group had seen close to no dragons upon entering Italy-asides from a couple of small droves in the Alps-concerned Hiccup. Guy had told them that the persecution against dragons was rooted both in the will of the common man to save themselves from their wrath, as well as in the dictation of the Church that was adhered to by men like O'Neill. Hiccup could only hope that they did not encounter too many men quite like the dead bishop in the heart of the Catholic faith, but it was a hope marred by a strongly negative perception of the men O'Neill represented.

Hiccup had opted to simply wander the streets, trying to find people of interest who might otherwise escape Guy and Astrid's surveys of their respective areas. He found however that despite the sizeable amount of people around, there was not a Norse or Gaelic speaker amongst them. He hoped Astrid would have better luck with the traders. Any and all those that he approached and tried speaking to viewed the lanky Norseman with skepticism and amusement as they walked away, no doubt commenting on his bizarre armor and curious metal leg.

They had all agreed to meet by late afternoon at the large circular building they had all seen when they had flown over the city the previous day amidst a thick cloud cover. While even such a magnificent structure was quite small from the air above, standing in its shadow was easily enough to humble any man, Hiccup being no exception.

Romans continued to pour into the arena, some stopping and diverting off to the right and left where Hiccup assumed there to be some kind of distraction in the form of wares or women. Most however went straight through the gateway and turned to what Hiccup inferred to be rows of benches. Given the amount of people he had seen enter in the lonely ten minutes he had been waiting, Hiccup could only assume that the arena could host an entire city's worth of people. Whatever was happening, it apparently attracted men and women of every class, profession and manner of existence. The poor in beige and white tunics stained by a life of labor mingled with merchants and nobles clad in silks, furs and other more intricately designed and aesthetically pleasing attire as befitting a person bound for an important event.

Even amidst the hustling of droves to enter the arena Hiccup could make out a lone male voice that emanated from within. The masses that were lining the interior of the coliseum were hushing themselves as the booming but well toned voice began proclamations in Italian. Hiccup couldn't understand a word of it, and became increasingly annoyed that he was being denied such knowledge.

_What could be so important to warrant an entire city turning out to one place?_

"Hiccup!"

Astrid's yell through the masses, loud but not of immediate concern drew Hiccup's attention away from the looming marble walls that begged for his attention. He found his wife and newly acquired cousin were together, quickly approaching him with a neutral demeanor but curious about the odd flux of Romans entering the coliseum that was quick to draw their attention when truly in the structure's presence. Hiccup waved them over as he made himself visible amidst the throngs that were now swarming towards the arena, the proclamations of the lone voice inside indicating that time was running out to take ones seats before the spectacle.

"Wow."

Astrid exhaled as she came to Hiccup's side, marveling at the curved marble walls that curved up towards the sky.

"I know." Though the two would have been content to marvel at the structure some more, Guy interrupted their interlude with more pressing matters.

"Any luck, Hiccup?"

"Nothing. No Norse or Gaelic speakers anywhere on the streets. How about you?"

"I couldn't get anything out of the merchants." Astrid started "There weren't many Norse speakers, and most of the others just tried to sell me crap or hit on me. Ended up having to smash a jar over one guy's head."

"That's my girl!" Hiccup pulled Astrid close in appreciation for her devotion and determination to remain only his. "Guy, any luck with the churches?"

"Yes, actually. A priest told me that the beast passed through this area about a week ago, and was seen flying South-Eastward. He said if we keep heading towards the southern end of Italy we should be on the right path."

"Great!"

Hiccup's eyes alit with the news that they were still on the right path of pursuit before he turned his attention back to the Romans still entering the arena, mostly stragglers by this point as the lone voice inside the arena bellowed out fiery and impassioned statements that would send those inside into brief throngs of applause.

"What's going on in there?" Astrid asked her husband, thinking that given his longer time near the structure he would know.

"I have no idea."

"Well then, let's find out shall we?" Guy gestured with his hand to the entrance before them with anticipation-On abord."

The Vikings followed the Norman inwards towards the arena. They passed beneath a large rounded arch, a figure of architecture that fascinated Hiccup to no end. How did it work? How is it made? Such questions were quickly arrested as the uproar from tens of thousands of Romans greeted the three as they came to the opposite end of the hall.

The applause was not for them though, but for the man that spoke to them all. He was large and pear shaped, draped in a brown cloak and yelled with a booming bass voice to the assembled masses.

"...Ed è per grazia Sua Santità 'che ti diamo un tale spettacolo oggi!"

"Any idea what they're saying Guy?" Hiccup asked his cousin, vainfully hoping his continental brother would at least grasp the basics of Italian.

"No my friend, I only know languages that are appealing to the ear."

Hiccup chuckled at the remark as the three continued to examine the scene from their spot at the edge of the hallway. The interior of the arena revealed just how truly spectacular it was. Row upon row of benches descended from the very top of the circular structure down to the very bottom, all curving around the center. A grounded oculus of sand lay bare for the moment with the exception of the lone man who continued to go on in Italian.

"...Appena catturato dalle Alpi..."

Hiccup's attention was drawn away from the lone man in the center to a platform directly opposite he and his comrades' position. It was adorned innately with gold and draped in illustrious tapestry. In it sat a man dressed in fine robes of royal purple trimmed with gold. He kept in his right hand a large and rather heavy looking pole topped with an intricately designed cross. A red hat lined with fur sat atop his head, which itself held a face that was aged and bearded. Several men with considerable armament stood around him, and two men in scarlet robes sat beside him, chatting amongst themselves.

_Whoever he is...must be important._

"Who is that?" Astrid asked, inquisitive to the man who commanded such singular luxury across from them.

"That," Guy started, almost unsure of his present reality "I believe...is the Pope."

"The Pope? As in the Pope?" Hiccup inquired Guy, fascinated at the prospect of seeing the man he knew to be the leader of his faith, and the architect of the persecution of dragons everywhere.

"Urban the second? Well...it would only make sense...we are in Rome, and he does appear to have all the trappings and circumstance about him that would go with such a position."

"Mmmhhh..." Hiccup began thinking about how he could go about meeting such a man, and of how they could come to an understanding on draconic affairs. The man in the center ring yelled something and gestured to the Pope, eliciting a fierce cheer from the assembled Romans.

"Is it a Mass?" Astrid asked, trying to make sense of why so many were gathered.

"I don't know. Whatever it is, it's important enough to warrant the Pope being present." Guy answered the best he could as the group's attention was drawn away from the ornately decorated balcony across from them down to the center ring, where there came a rumbling from beneath the sands.

"Lasciate che la lotta abbia inizio!"

The large man ran to the side of the ring as two doors from beneath the sands opened forth. Such a feat of engineering impressed Hiccup. What emerged disturbed him.

From each underground space emerged a Monstrous Nightmare. They were urged forward by several men armed with pikes that prodded the dragons upwards into the arena. They snarled and roared at the light pricks against their hide, lashing out at the men armed with pikes but still progressing towards the other regardless.

"Oh God..." Astrid was caught still, unable to process her own rage amidst the shock of the sight. The Two Nightmares, one blue and another light brown began to circle the other, occasionally lashing at each other with their necks as the men with pikes began to make their way to the very edges of the ring, keeping cautious eyes on the prowling beasts.

"Why-Why don't they just-fly away?" Hiccup mumbled out at the disheartening sight, beyond belief at seeing the dragons being prodded against each other. He made the sign of the cross over his body, offering a truly sincere prayer to his new God that whatever hardships were present would come to pass.

"Look at the wings." Was all Guy offered for advice. When Hiccup did, he saw how strips of them flowed differently as each dragon convulsed at the other.

_Sliced wings...that must have been painful..._

The blue nightmare lashed out at the other, taking its neck in its mouth and lashing it to the ground violently. The crowd agreed to the action with raucous applause.

"They're cheering for it...like it's some sick game."

"Yeah..." Hiccup moaned as the brown Nightmare kicked back at the blue one's attempt to go for a quick kill and spat a volley of fire at it. The blue one ducked out of the way and let one of the pike armed men receive a hot and sticky death as the molten saliva enveloped him. The crowd cheered regardless.

An ugly truth reared itself to Hiccup. If he had never downed Toothless all those years ago he could be just like any of these Romans. He would cheer on Astrid-who would have only remained his secret crush- as she slaughtered her first Nightmare in the Kill Ring. He would still enjoy watching dragons being slaughtered every time they attacked the village, and he would still probably be working on ways to kill one himself and win Astrid's approval.

He had the potential within him to be one of these Romans. He had been fortunate enough that the God he had come to accept had cut him a break and allowed him to nearly kill his best friend before bestowing upon them the gift of friendship they tried so desperately to demonstrate to other people. Still, he had come very close to being one of these people; someone who cheered on the death of these wonderful creatures and craved to see their blood spilt.

The brown nightmare lunged with its mouth and snapped repeatedly at its opponent who in turn breathed its own fire at the attacker. Hiccup knew it was a vain effort for any stoker class dragon to try and wound another with fire, but he could understand the desperate desire of the two beasts to achieve victory by any means. It might just mean their agonizing lives would be spared.

"I don't believe this..." Astrid mumbled as the fight continued, each dragon furiously lashing and firing upon the other with the occasional prodding by one of the pike armed men.

The blue Nightmare finally managed to pin the brown one on the ground after another minute of sparring and feigned attacks. Guy, Hiccup and Astrid looked on awestruck as the dominating dragon locked down the neck of the opponent with its claws. Then with one direct move the aggressor lunged at the neck, this time biting down hard and bringing forth a fountain of crimson blood. Hiccup winced and was tempted to look away before his company of a warrior and his stone faced wife forced him to keep a masculine demeanor.

The crowds cheered as though Christ himself had returned as the victor of the match continued to bite at the neck of the defeated, eventually ripping it off the neck halfway down. The dismembered head dripped with blood and loose sinew as the victor tossed the trophy into the air and towards a section of the audience, which ducked and then cheered at the carnage. Even if it made Hiccup sick to his stomach, he couldn't deny that the fight was indeed quite the spectacle.

The lone remaining dragon breathed a heavy volley of fire into the air and let the burning fluid drop to the ground as it roared. Even the notoriously powerful snarl of the beast was rendered but another voice amidst the throng that still cheered for the death of the brown dragon.

"It's...disgusting..." Hiccup whispered as he looked around the crowds. Girls no older than five and men no younger than seventy all roared in agreement to the slaughter before them. Hiccup's eyes narrowed as his shock gave way to rage. This was wrong. This wasn't even about the dragons at this point. This was about what was right and wrong. Watching creatures that Hiccup could consider to be good friends were being forced to kill one another for amusement. The remains of the defeated would probably be made into a coat. His gaze turned to the man across from him in the ornate box, watching the end of the spectacle with little interest and whispering into the ear of one of the men to his side.

He was responsible for this, and Hiccup felt a call to duty deep within himself to stop it.

"Look!" Astrid proclaimed to the two knights. The three looked down to where she pointed. A gate on the side of the ring opened. Out from it emerged not another dragon, but a solitary figure. He was well armored and had definitely dressed for show. His chainmail shirt and leggings gleaned in the sunlight while the sheen of his helmet and shoulder guards immediately called attention to him as they shimmered with envious glory. He held in one hand a triangular shield, and in the other a long-sword of similar make and build to both Guy and O'Gara's.

"Who's that?" Guy asked, intrigued by the soldier's entrance which drew even more cheers from the crowd.

"I think," Hiccup started, feeling as though the battle was not yet done, "that he's the new challanger."

The blue Nightmare snarled at the gleaming man as he steadied his shield and reared his sword to attack position. The soldier was quick to dodge another burst of flame and used the momentum of his dive to lunge at the dragon. The beast moved to block, but the man stabbed into its wing regardless, sending the creature reeling back in pain as it bared its teeth at the human challenger.

"I don't think they want the other one coming out of this alive." Astrid added as the dragon lunged at the warrior with a snapping jaw. The soldier dodged and instead bashed the dragon's face with his shield, shattering it in the process while sending the beast reeling backwards in pain.

The warrior charged with deep war cry as the dragon continued to deflect blows to its face at the cost of more slashes and strikes to its already damaged wings, blood spilling from each incision and staining the sands beneath the dueling pair burgundy as the liquid pulsed out of the beast with each strained breath. Hiccup knew it was only a matter of time now before the dragon bled out. Still, by either a will to kill or to merely survive the beast fought on, charging at the warrior with its jaw several times. It did so in such a rapid succession that the warrior fell backward onto the sand.

The Nightmare's claw pinned him down and the dragon reared its head upwards to let out a burst of its fire. The crowd began to gasp and scream in worry at the possible outcome, though their eyes revealed their desire to see blood spilt, regardless of species. The dragon descended its head to breath.

Barely a squirt emerged.

_Poor thing doesn't have any left..._

The crowd cheered in appreciation as the warrior's life was spared, and said soldier quickly took his sword and stabbed it into the dragon's foot. The beast stumbled backwards in pain as the warrior removed his sword from the leg and charged forward once more with fierce and determined yell, much to the joy of the spectators. The dragon was becoming too slow for the warrior as he made several stabs and thrusts into its midsection to little resistance. Hiccup finally had to turn away for a moment amidst the torrents of blood that emerged from the vicious assaults, finding Astrid was doing the same. The both exchanged a glance to mean "you too?" as they noticed how Guy continued to watch the slaughter with a stone face but a bitter soul.

Finally, the Nightmare collapsed onto its side with a thud. This apparently was not enough to satisfy the audience who began a single unified shout as the warrior, his once gleaming armor now streaked red and dripping with Nightmare blood walked with a steady confidence towards the neck of the fallen beast.

_What's the point? It's nearly dead by this point anyway..._

"Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi!" The single chant emerged from the crowd, projected in volleys upon the center ring where the warrior stood over the dying body of the Nightmare. Hiccup and Astrid made themselves look back towards the spectacle as the soldier placed one foot on the neck of the beast and lowered his sword to his side. He looked up to the man in the ornate box who had risen upon the occasion and had stepped to the railing.

"Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi!"

_Just put it out of its misery for God's sake._

The warrior and the Pope met eyes for a moment while the cries of the crowd continued. Then, with a steady movement indicative of the figure's age, the Pope extended his right arm, the simple gesture enough to warrant a surge of enthusiasm from the crowd.

"Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi! Uccidi!"

Hiccup caught the faintest of smiles emerge on the Pope's face as the outstretched hand produced a thumb, and the digit was plunged downwards to thunderous applause. The warrior bowed in respect to his spiritual superior before quickly raising his sword over his head and plunging it into the beasts neck, the last of the creatures blood spurting forth a brief moment as the blade was extracted and raised above the champion's head, dripping the dark red liquid upon the shimmering helmet and bathing the warrior in the essence of his victory.

"Disgusting..." Astrid growled at the sight. Hiccup could see her longing for the axe she had left back at camp, knowing it was too large and dangerous a weapon to carry in such a Southerly city without fear of apprehension and detention. Hiccup on the other hand had the fortune of his own weapon being inconspicuous and concealed.

He could feel the anger burning within him, the rage at seeing such intolerance manifested to the point of amusement against a species he knew to be intrinsically well mannered was rapidly mounting. His left hand crept down towards his blade. A short lived fantasy played through his mind of him racing down to the ring and jamming his flaming sword through the neck of the warrior who was being lauded by the masses. Then he would give a convincing speech on how dragons were actually great creatures and he would convince the entire seventy odd thousand spectators and even the leader of his faith of this.

This delusion was stopped when Guy brought his own hand down to arrest Hiccup's before it could touch the hilt.

"No. Look." Guy pointed to the far upper reaches of the arena. Hiccup had been too distracted by the other events to notice them, but Guy's eyes were keen enough to point out men who were circling the upper circumference of the coliseum. Each marched around slowly with a loaded cross bow in hand and sword at their sides, eyes darting throughout the crowd for any signs of trouble and being extra certain to keep a view on the Pope.

"You won't even get to the ring before they shoot you down."

Reluctantly and with rage Hiccup withdrew his hand from his blade, clenching it instead into a fist as he growled with bared teeth.

"This is wrong."

"This is horrible." Astrid added.

"Yes...a sad reality." Guy could only contribute a sympathetic ambivalence, having been for so long a man who would have enjoyed such activities it would be pointless for him to condemn his entire past.

"A sad reality," Hiccup looked across from himself to the Pope, who was once again whispering to a man besides him with amusement at the bloody sight below them, "But we're gonna change it."

* * *

><p>Several large torches lined the ring of the coliseum in the darkness of early morning. Hiccup stood close to its center, where patches of spilled Nightmare blood still stained the sand. Guy paced by his side, anxious but anticipatory to the coming action.<p>

"You think she's all right?"

Hiccup was broken from wandering thoughts as to what he was going to say.

"She'll be fine." He had no doubt that Astrid would go about her task with the precision and determination she gave to all things regardless of the difficulty. Guy went back to pacing some more before posing another question.

"Luke should be here by now."

"He will be, don't worry."

The sun had begun to set late in the day when the trio had made their way back to camp outside the city where they had briefly reconnoitered with O'Gara about what they had seen. Hiccup had instructed the Irishman to meet them inside the coliseum after midnight. Luke had asked why, but Hiccup had not said, at the moment totally unsure of what exactly he was planning.

When Astrid had recommended that she could simply follow the Pope back to his residence and wait till darkness, then the plan as daring and reckless and possibly sinful as it was became cemented. She had gotten into the air fast enough to catch the procession through the city and had been last seen soaring into the clouds to avoid detection. Hiccup and Guy had waited till darkness had fallen to fly into the coliseum, relieved to find that despite the masses that had assembled there earlier in the day, it was a structure that seemed to be abandoned when there was no show going on.

Toothless and Cindre lay behind Hiccup, morose and uneasy over smelling dragon blood so freshly spilt. Toothless had initially thought it had something to do with Guy and had been suspicious of the Norman until Hiccup put himself between the two and stopped any further animosity.

Cindre, despite the fact that it was her species that had been slaughtered here this day held no such judgments towards her rider. Hiccup marveled at how rapidly she had bonded with Guy over the past two weeks. She seemed to be better tuned to the Norman's guilt and remorse for his past than even Hiccup or Astrid. The two understood how deeply their animosity towards each other went, and both were committed to reconciling such things as best they could.

A light flutter of wings overhead indicated the otherwise stealthy decent of Agnes as she slid onto the sands of the arena and a figure robed in black dismounted the Timberjack and moved to address Hiccup with an annoyed expression.

"So...why are we here exactly?"

"Can you think of a better place to be?"Hiccup struck back at the annoyance with his own sarcasm, much to Luke's disdain.

"Why...despite all that you told me about this place do I have to be here? And at this hour? Astrid had to come by and wake me up before she set out to God knows where...which I assume you also know of." Luke gestured to Hiccup to explain himself as Agnes slid across the sand in a serpentine manner and moved to greet Cindre. Toothless lay apathetically by Hiccup's side, dozing considering the early morning hour.

"Let's just say Astrid is fetching someone important for us."

"Noooo...let's say exactly what the hell is going on so I don't have to put up with your games." Luke was not in the mood for dancing around the subject, but Hiccup decided to do so anyways.

"Well...we told you earlier that we saw the Pope here today."

"Yes, and I was disappointed at being denied the experience."

"So...uh...we decided that we needed to change his mind about dragons-to put a stop to what we saw here."

"Okay..." Luke let on, cautious as to where Hiccup was going.

"So we decided what better place to talk to him than here? We of course had to make sure that there wouldn't be any guards around, so we had to do it at an hour like this. So-uh...yeah."

Hiccup let his arms flap to his side as he finished, implying with ambivalence what was happening. Luke's eyes fell into disbelief as he grasped his forehead with his palm in frustration.

"You _didn't_."

"No...we kind of are."

"Okay," Luke removed his palm from his forehead and directed it at Hiccup, still amazed at what he was understanding-you mean..."

"Yep."

Luke stared at Hiccup a long moment in disbelief.

"So Astrid's-"

"Yep."

And bringing him-"

"Uh...yeah. Pretty much."

"Okay then, one more question." Luke turned to Hiccup with a frustrated and dumbfounded expression.

"Yeah?"

"_WHY_ are we kidnapping the Pope?!"

"Because I'm going to change the way he thinks about dragons. I have to at least try. To put a stop to all," Hiccup gestured around the entire coliseum "this."

Luke sighed as he turned away from Hiccup, who could swear the Gael was rolling his eyes at him as he mumbled beneath his breath.

"Oh God, help us."

Hiccup ignored the pessimism for the moment in favor of mulling on how his conviction was going to carry him through the event. He was relying on Guy's knowledge of Latin to help them through the ordeal, and hoping that the Norman's own story would help in shaking away the prejudices of the Holy Father.

He hoped.

A second flapping of wings overhead indicated to Hiccup's relief that his wife had returned safely, and hopefully with the desired goal. Hiccup took a mild pleasure in seeing the aged man who had looked so apathetic at watching dragons fight each other to the death in pure terror as he descended from the sky.

"Good evening milady, I trust everything went smoothly."

Stormfly dropped the Pope from her clutches as the Nadder was grounded a few feet away, Astrid dismounting as Urban II stumbled to his feet in shock.

"As smoothly as abducting the leader of Christendom could be.-Astrid gestured to a light curve of blood on her left arm that seemed to be coagulating nicely-Crossbow grazed me as I was escaping though, kind of hurts."

"Tell me about it." Hiccup joked as he stepped forward towards the Pope, Toothless up and about at Hiccup's back at seeing the new arrival to the group.

"I don't believe this." Luke exhaled at the sight of Urban, who looked around to the black robed Gael, the lanky brown haired Viking, the aged but intimidating Norman and the terrifying blond who had abducted him with bewilderment and fear.

"It's okay your Holiness, we're not here to hurt you."

_He'd believe that if you hadn't abducted him via dragon..._ Luke held his tongue for the moment and allowed Hiccup to continue, knowing he was now as much a part of this as anyone.

"Indietro! Ottenere indietro demoni!"

"Hey! Hey it's okay we're not gonna hurt you just calm down!"

Hiccup approached the Pope with an open hand and the most diplomatic expression he could manage. He motioned his other hand to Toothless who was trying to follow his master and only causing Urban to back away even more. Astrid moved to get behind the Pope to stop him from tumbling backwards endlessly. The man turned in the face of the stone faced Valkyrie and started moving back towards Hiccup with eyes trembling with a sudden terror.

"Guy, a little help here..." Hiccup growled at the Norman to step in with his own languages, hoping to rectify the situation as best he could.

"Right...Vous parlez Francais, Votre Saintete?" Urban turned towards the Norman pleadingly and raced towards him if only by virtue of hearing a familiar language.

"Qui êtes-vous? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Ce qui se passe?"

Guy kept Urban at an arm's length, gripping the Pope with a stern hand and trying to calm him as Cindre made her way over to her new friend, curious at the startled old man who tried to jerk away from Guy at the sight of the Nightmare.

"Non non mon ami! Elle sera pas vous blesser. Calmez-vous s' il vous plaît!"

Guy gripped Urban with both hands and held him tightly, refusing to let the Holy Father's emotions and fears get the better of him. Hiccup slowly began to approach the Pope again as the man started to slow his breathing and take in his surroundings.

"Well Guy, start talking." Hiccup said as Urban looked the peculiar looking, lanky Viking up and down before motioning a glance to the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself that lurked around him, keeping a watchful eye of the group.

"Oui...Votre Saintite...Mon nom et Guy. C'est mon cousin Hiccup-Urban perked his eyes to the odd sound, much to Hiccup's own disappointment-son femme Astrid et on ami Luke."

Guy began a discussion with the Pope, detailing his own history of what he considered now sinful behavior to a man who supposed to specialize in knowing exactly what such things entailed. Hiccup backed off to Astrid, who was wrapping her wound in a bandage from her pack.

"So, how'd it go?" He asked, needing something to pass the time as Urban took in Guy's dictation, all the while continuing to look around himself to the circling dragons, more so curious than bloodthirsty.

"Well, I followed his entourage until they got to this palace on the far side of the city. Really nice place actually. Anyways, I had to circle around until nightfall when I could land on one of the nearby rooftops. I got to the front entrance but it was guarded, so I had to distract them-'

"How?"

"Well-Hiccup noticed how Astrid put on her most seductive face with alluring eyes as she pulled the bandage tight over her arm.-I may have moved my tunic slightly off my shoulder and called them over to an alley with my more...seductive voice-Astrid's tone dropped half an octave as she continued winding the bandage around her arm.- Only one of them broke post at first though, so I had to beat him up first and make sure he didn't yell. Fortunately this got my hair all messed up and I looked even worse for wear, so when I tried for the second time on the other he finally came over to check things out, and then I pummeled the daylights out of him and left both of them in the gutter while I walked inside."

Hiccup couldn't help but grin at the resourcefulness of his wife as she placed her unwounded arm around his neck, getting in close.

"So then it was just a matter of evading the patrols through the hallways which proved easy enough for a while. And I noticed how at certain places there were more patrols than others, so I had to go where there were more...you know, because it would make sense for there to be more protection around him...Then when one of the patrols walked by I just kind of walked into his room, dragged his sorry ass out of bed and called Stormfly over through the window."

Astrid crooked her eyes down to her bandage, a sight that still distressed Hiccup despite its pretty minimal damage.

"Of course he screamed when he found a woman in his bedroom, and especially when Stormfly appeared outside. That drew the guards attention...I'll admit it was a sloppy mistake of mine not to cover his mouth before he woke...and just as we were escaping this one guard got to the rooftop and fired. I was lucky though; if his aim was any better he would have hit the Pope, and I would have had to seduce two Italians for nothing."

She smiled at the careless remark and Hiccup couldn't help but join her as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"At least Italians know a beautiful woman when they see one."

"No..._MEN_ know a beautiful woman when they see one."

"Well I can't argue with that." He placed another kiss lower on her head towards the center of her eyes. She pulled back and placed her own on the same spot on his own head.

"So...kidnap the single most important man in Christendom and then make out...is that really how this works?" Luke's sarcasm broke whatever romantic feelings the couple were having at the moment, begrudgingly turning their attention back to the admittedly important situation.

They had just kidnapped the Pope.

Urban was still nervously listening to Guy, often cutting into the Norman's dialogue with loud proclamations and rebuttals in French to whatever point Guy was trying to make. Hiccup regretted not being able to speak French or Italian, knowing that his own explanations might be more effective. But the circumstances being what they were, he had to trust his cousin to make the right arguments, some of which Hiccup had talked with him about earlier to hopefully make the best case for dragon kind.

Urban's unsteady resolve and continued nervous glances towards the surrounding dragons indicated that Guy's arguments were not exactly hitting their mark.

"Guy?" Hiccup asked, immediately drawing the attention of the Pope. "How's it coming?"

"Eh, he's proving pretty stubborn and has quoted Psalms and Revelation five times already."

The Pope turned to address Hiccup, who Urban was coming to understand to be the leader of this group of heretics.

"Vous osez me kidnapper et me menace avec ces démons! Je vous ferai tout excommunié pour cela!

"What's he saying?" Hiccup asked Guy, unsure of the hastily spoken and panicked French.

"Just threatening to remove us from the faith is all."

"Oh well that's comforting." Astrid retorted as she took to Hiccup's side to back him up. Luke stayed away from the confrontation, and slowly rubbed Agnes' neck while he kept a watch on their surroundings.

"Okay," Hiccup tried to wrack his brain for a way to assist his cousin in this delicate situation, "Try telling him what I told you, about Daniel and O'Neill."

"Okay..." Guy brought the Pope's attention back to the Norman face and relayed the best he could of the extraordinary tale he had heard relayed from Hiccup and Astrid. The Vikings knew it was Daniel's memory that was most likely to sway the opinions of other men of faith. His sacrifice to protect Astrid and the essence of Berkian life lived on in Hiccup's memory and in Astrid's conviction to O'Rourke's interpretation of faith. In a dark twist of fate, his death may have been the single most important event in human-dragon relations since Hiccup had first met Toothless. If they could just convince the Pope of this, then maybe-just maybe- they could prevent guarantee safety for dragons on the continent after all.

As the Pope continued to yell back at Guy in French with raised and erratic arm gestures, Hiccup felt this was going to be more difficult than he thought.

"Je ne se soucient pas un Irlandais hérétique! Je me soucie de la sainteté de tout ce que nous chérissons vous blasphémateur traître!"

"Votre Sainteté, cet homme avait trouvé un moyen pour l'homme et les dragons à vivre en paix, est-ce pas ce que vous désirez?"

Urban ripped himself from Guy's hold and pointed with anger at Toothless, more so enraged than terrified at being in the proximity of the fabled creature.

"Je et Dieu vais seulement la paix quand les démons comme celui-ci sont finalement éliminées. Dieu le veut."

"Guy?" Hiccup asked, growing concerned to the impatience of the Holy Father and how Toothless was beginning to snarl his teeth at the figure.

"He doesn't seem to care much for the story of the Irishman, he's falling back on dogma again..."

"Monstres comme ça qui détruisent nos villes et terrorisent les Chrétiens innocentes!"

"Toothless! Easy! Don't hurt him..." Hiccup kept a stern tone with his dragon which began to pace near the Pope in sensing the rage filled expression coming from the holy man. Cindre and Stormfly equally began to grow suspicious of the strange man brought into their midst, and paid attention to the Alpha's movements as the Pope continued.

"Je suis consterné quelconque homme qui se dit chrétien pourrait participer à de telles actions, et encore moins sur le dos des démons!"

"Ils ne attaquent les gens Saint-Père, ils et je désire que la paix!" Guy retorted to an insult Hiccup did not understand.

"He...seems to think we-particularly you- are responsible for the recent Night Fury attacks...and he's none too happy about it."

"Uh...guys..." Luke tried to get the group's attention, but the ensuing chaos prohibited his worry from being known.

"Compagnes des demons!" Urban lashed towards Toothless in his conviction. While the Night Fury back away and bared his teeth, Cindre stepped forward to show her support for the dragon she had recently come to accept as Alpha.

"Guys...we have company." Luke again tried to get the group's attention

"Non non mon cheri! Il est inoffensive!"

Both Guy and Hiccup rushed to get in front of their dragons as they both became aggressive towards the loud man whose tone disturbed them. They tried to stay in front of the beasts, adjusting all three of their legs for several moments while Urban continued to proclaim his beliefs and condemnations unto the group.

It was the striking of a crossbow bolt near Hiccup's metal leg that halted all yelling for a moment. All five people in the arena turned up to where the bolt had come from, noticing a new line of torches that illuminated a company of none too friendly looking Italians.

"Oh that's not good." Hiccup mumbled as a commander barked an order and slapped a soldier on the side of the head.

"Non colpire il Papa idioti! Indirizzare i draghi e sparare!"

"Move!" Astrid yelled as a volley of bolts landed around them, dodging all persons by the grace of God and the darkness of the night.

"Okay time's up! Let's get the Hell out of here!"

Toothless-to Hiccup's dismay- launched a plasma bolt at the group as they were reloading, most probably killing some if not wounding them. Regardless, it gave the group the time needed to get to their dragons and mount them.

"Let's just head back to camp and get our supplies! Move!" Luke barked as Agnes slid under him, allowing the Irishman to saddle himself easily.

Hiccup leaped onto Toothless who kept a stern face on where the bolts were coming from. For a moment, he felt his hand being pulled down away from him, and noticed how Urban was tugging at his arm with a deathly expression.

"Dio vedrà le persone come te bruciare all'inferno demonio malvagio!"

Having enough of the ignorance and stubbornness of this man he had tried to change, Hiccup merely pulled his arm away, and proceeded to whack the Pope across the face before urging Toothless upwards

The four riders soared up and out of the arena, only to find that the bolt fire did not stop. The streets below were lined with torches and droves of people caught up in a frenzy of panic and bloodlust.

"Watch out! Get in the air!" Astrid barked as Hiccup and Luke complied. Guy instead descended to the confusion of the others. Hiccup looked down to see Guy trying to get Cindre to ascend, finding the dragon instead diving towards a group of soldiers preparing to fire.

"No! Toothless, you've got to stop them bud." Hiccup leaned in close to his dragon, his own words and incomprehensible bond to the dragon allowing the thought to transfer well enough as the Alpha looked down whilst he climbed further, trying to order the Nightmare onward.

The command came too late as a brilliant orange burst emerged from the Nightmare's maw, colliding into several buildings where small clusters of soldiers were attempting to shoot down the dragon amidst the darkness. While the light from the blaze could have helped with their aim, the liquid fire itself only served to encapsulate each man in their own personal inferno as they collapsed in agony, the buildings around them quickly catching into a blaze as the scorching liquid collapsed off the sides.

Cindre obeyed Toothless moments later and began to ascend quickly to join the other as the soared out of crossbow range. The Night Fury shook its head at the Nightmare as it pulled up next to Hiccup, giving it a scowl through the darkness for its lack of respect both for he and Hiccup.

"What was that?!" Hiccup yelled to Guy as they raced through the air above the city towards the South gate, a few miles outside of which they knew their camp lay.

"I'm sorry! She dived down looking for blood and I couldn't stop her! Thank God for Toothless or she would have attacked until both of us were dead!"

"Who would have figured they would treat the kidnapping of the Pope as though it were some big deal?" Luke yelled as Agnes began to soar on the wind. Hiccup shook his head at the biting sarcasm as the four riders flew into the night and to their campsite.

When they landed, they were relieved that most of their supplies were already packed by Luke, claiming he had nothing better to do while waiting for them earlier in the day. They assembled their things in silence, fatigue growing prevalent in all of them after the close call with execution. The quiet also gave opportunity for contemplation on the actions.

They had just kidnapped the Pope and attempted to change his mind on dragons.

And failed miserably.

The occasion left a bitter taste in Hiccup's mouth. It wasn't just Luke's apprehension at the idea-although granted that did leave him increasingly conflicted on the loyalty of the knight.

He and Astrid had accepted Christianity because they believed in redemption, because Daniel had tried to reconcile two different warring factions by motivation of faith and admiration for dragons. He was the face that had given them the word of God, yet it seemed so many others who called themselves Christians did not want to follow this doctrine and change. While Guy had come around, the fact that the Pope had been so resolute in his defiance despite what Hiccup was sure to have been very convincing arguments in French left him conflicted on how much he could trust these continentals.

"Hiccup," Guy whispered to his cousin in the early morning light as the group made to depart. "I'm sorry. I tried my best."

Hiccup could see the depression and guilt on Guy's face, indicative of a true sense of failure that only truly appears on warrior who knows they have failed lived up their duty. Hiccup placed a hand of reassurance on Guy's shoulder as Cindre and Toothless drew close to one another, Toothless continuing to growl at the Nightmare for its disobedience.

"It's alright Guy, some people just take longer than others."

It was the chief's only word of reassurance before the two dragons climbed to the sky to catch up with the already departed Stormfly and Agnes. Hiccup sighed as Toothless reached a comfortable cruising altitude, distressed over a long and chaotic day in the eternal city. He took one last look back as dawn approached and the city began to fall out of sight. He could at least admire the pink and orange of the sunrise as it stretched above the horizon. There was another separate orange glow that emanated from Rome itself from which a dark and billowing cloud emerged, but he decided to ignore this as the four continued their endeavor Southward in the early morning light.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello! Figured I'd do my main author's notes down here from now on. Okay, maybe dragon style gladiator fights looked over by the Pope is a bit unrealistic, but come on...you can't deny that would be cool. We'll be getting to the Holy land in a few chapters. Don't worry.<strong>

**Much thanks as always to _The Writer Es_ for her work as Beta.**

**Hope you enjoyed. If so, please leave a review to tell me what you think.**

**Mc out!**


	6. Fraternas

The Sun was evil.

That was the only word Astrid had for it. There was no other reason for why it should be as bright and powerful and frustratingly hot as it was other than the fact that it was evil and out to kill them all.

On a cloudless day at noon time in Southern Italy, it at least certainly felt that way.

Her eyes were beginning to droop as the Italian pastureland passed quickly beneath the group. She hadn't gotten any sleep since they escaped from Rome earlier that morning, and she was growing desperate for rest. She had requested it from Hiccup a little while ago, but he had denied the request on the basis that the land was still too habituated for them to be safe. In actuality they hadn't seen any village or wayward building for over an hour, but Hiccup wasn't taking any chances.

She could see the frustration and consternation wrought on her husband's face. While the events she had witnessed in the Coliseum had left her distraught and enraged, she had a feeling it had upset Hiccup even more. The group's failed effort to change the opinion of the Pope on dragons had only left them all further demoralized as they rode in quiet throughout the morning.

He didn't trust any of them at this point. She could see the defeat and rage in his expression as he stared into the ongoing sky. She knew that he wasn't going to let them settle down until he was sure that they would never be disturbed by any of these damned continentals. Not until he was sure that they wouldn't be under any threat by these intolerant and blood thirsty savages.

She partly blamed Guy for it all. It had been his suggestion that they visit Rome in the first place. It had been his role to talk some sense into the Pope given that he was the only one who could commune with him. He had failed to change the Pope's mind, and as a result they had been forced to flee the city amidst a hail of crossbow bolts. She had nearly died that night because of him.

While her explanation to Hiccup about how she had gone about abducting the Holy Father had been rather lackadaisical, it had in actuality had been very stressful. Seducing the Italian guards had made her feel dirty-cheap. Beating them up had far more difficult than she had let on. One of them had almost gotten a knife into her before a slip on the pavement had given her the opportunity to strike at his throat.

Sluicing her way through the palace was an equally frustrating affair. While she was competent at being stealthy, it was not something she particularly enjoyed doing when outright violence worked just as well. Her entrance into the Pope's chamber had been a humbling but frustrated experience as she made her get away, tossing the Pope out of the window and catching him with Stormfly just before he collided with the street below.

Then of course she had been shot at, which is rarely a pleasant affair. Her arm was still sore from the light graze, and she was praying it didn't get infected. She and the Pope had nearly been killed because of this plan to have Guy talk some sense into him, and it had in the end been in vain. All because the damned Norman had insisted on visiting the city.

_Although...it was Hiccup's idea to try and talk to the Pope in the first place..._

She shook her head at the idea, but that didn't stop it from taking over her thoughts for a while. She had kidnapped the leader of her faith-as seemingly horrible as an individual as he was-for Hiccup. She had suffered an injury for Hiccup. She had nearly died by a hail of crossbow bolts for Hiccup.

Because he wanted to try and change the Pope's mind. Because he was so sure not only in Guy but in all people to be able to accept dragons.

And the entire reason they were here in the first place was because he just had to find this other elusive Night Fury.

While it was disheartening to Astrid to see the leader of the faith she had come to accept reject the dragons so firmly, it was even more depressing to see how desperate Hiccup was to change people's minds. He had trusted people for so long that people were able to change, but encounters with various Catholic authorities both in the form of O'Neill and the Pope were now visibly tearing down that pillar he stood upon.

He had been so convinced that any person could adapt to something new-as he and she had done with both dragons and Christianity- that he thought that if he could just get to the Pope by any means-even by having him kidnapped-that the Holy Father could be brought to the side of tolerance and acceptance.

Things hadn't exactly turned out that way, and Astrid's arm was now warm and dull as a result.

She wiped her forehead with her other hand. Though the cooling wind was preventing her from sweating, the sun was making her skin hot and burning it. She had never been quite this red in all her life. Every inch of her face and arms burned as they glowed a deep cherry color. She knew she should probably put on the red shawl she had bought the day before they had stopped at Rome, but she wouldn't be able to navigate her pack and fly at the same time without something-probably the shawl- flying out in the process. It would just be easier to endure the burns for now. Perhaps she could get used to it in time?

She ignored her own pain and fatigue and resolved to keep focused on flying. She looked down to the ground a few thousand yards below her. They had mostly passed over fallow meadow land for most of the morning. These lush green pastures were now giving way to waves of golden grain that shone brightly as they desperately waved in the wind, trying to absorb as much of the Sun's endless nutrition as they could.

Guy was off to her left by twenty yards, and Luke about the same distance to her right. Hiccup took the lead with Toothless a good hundred yards in front of her, laying prone on Toothless' back.

_Lucky guy is probably sleeping..._

Astrid knew he likely wasn't, but her mind was increasingly focused on how fatigued she was becoming. If she didn't settle down soon, she felt as though she might actually start taking a nap on Stormfly's back. She needed a break from this chaos, from thought, from life itself if only or a few precious hours.

Fate decided to give her a break.

Hiccup and Toothless suddenly began a rapid and rather disorganized descent. Her husband quickly took a seated position and was looking around the dragon in a panicked state, his attention being quickly drawn to Toothless' artificial tail fin. Astrid could see that it was beginning to wave erratically as Toothless lost altitude.

"Hiccup!"

She urged Stormfly down towards him as Luke and Guy quickly joined in at seeing that their leader was in trouble. The entire band rapidly descended onto a grain covered hillside as Hiccup managed Toothless into a rough landing as the two tumbled around the stalks. Astrid and company quickly came down around him and crushed the long grasses underfoot as they went to see what was wrong.

"Hiccup!" Astrid rushed to join him as he stood up apparently unscathed. She quickly embraced him out of concern.

"What happened?"

The two looked back to Toothless who was shaking himself up from the ground; frazzled but appearing overall collected. Hiccup walked over to his fake tail fin and inspected the entire apparatus.

"Ah dammit..." Hiccup mumbled as he pulled at part of the harness. The rest gathered around to see what exactly was the problem was.

"The suspension rod I use to put him in glide position came loose. Looks like the leather I use to hold it in position just got so worn down it snapped. Idiot...should have been checking on this..." Hiccup trailed off and grumbled to himself about his negligence to the device that gave both he and his best friend the gift of flight.

"Can you fix it?" Luke quickly broke in, more so concerned with immediate and practical concern now that the immediate risk of death to his leader was gone.

"Of course I can fix it. I built it didn't I?" Hiccup retorted with biting sarcasm, not in much of a mood for any calamity at the moment, let alone something like this.

"I've just to get some more leather and maybe adjust the rod a little...not a big deal really." Hiccup sighed as he batted his eyes open after they closed for more than a blink's duration. Astrid could tell he was as exhausted as she was. They all were.

"You all right bud?" Hiccup asked his dragon, who crooned and licked his face. Hiccup wiped away the thick saliva and tossed it back into the dragon's face.

"I'd say that doesn't wash out but I smell so bad right now I'll consider it bath." A mild smile came to his face as Toothless crooked his head at his friend, concerned that flight had been taken away from him for the moment.

"Yeah don't worry bud we'll get you all fixed up in no time. -Hiccup stood back up and faced the group who looked to him for leadership.-Well Guy, any idea where we are?"

The Norman really had no idea, but felt it in his best interest to give at least some kind of statement so as to be held in his comrade's good graces.

"Eh...given how long we've flown I'd say we are probably in the domain of the Naples kings. I think the ruler is either a Sergius or a John, it's...been a while since I've bothered with news from this far South..." Guy shrugged, acknowledging he was about as lost as the other three.

"Well I would certainly doubt we're finding much sympathy from him if provided we come across one of his castles..." Luke added dryly, his intonations acknowledging the fact that they were in as hostile territory as any considering what they had witnessed in Rome.

"Yeah..." Hiccup let on, making his own frustrations at the circumstances known before pausing a moment to think of what to do next.

"Should we just start looking around for towns for you go grab something at?" Astrid asked, offering her assistance despite her fatigue.

"Not yet...-Hiccup yawned as he began, quickly causing a chain reaction amongst the other three-I think we've travelled far enough to stop for now."

Astrid, Guy and Luke were relieved at the words and that Hiccup could pick up on their collective fatigue. Agnes, Stormfly and Cindre had already collapsed onto the grain and curled up around each other seeking rest.

"Yeah, guess we'll just settle down here and get searching..." Hiccup stopped as he looked to the peak of the hillside whose slope they had landed on. The three others each turned their own attention to the crest, and to the four men who were watching them. Each was wrapped in a brown robe adorned with a darker brown cross and carried a scythe in his hand, though none seemed to threaten the group with the blades at the moment.

"Oh...that's...bad..." Luke muttered as the two groups of four kept watch on each other for the moment. Two of the Italians talked quietly amongst themselves, gazes still fixed on the dragons and their riders.

Astrid felt a compulsion to go for her axe, but felt she had to stand by for the moment as the Italians watched them, not so in fear but with curiosity.

"Hiccup...?" She whispered to her husband who held a careful hand over his sword, ready to use it at a moment's notice.

"Hold on...they're not doing anything yet..." Hiccup motioned a hand down slowly to the other knights, who were hesitant at the awkward standoff.

The shriek of a purple Terrible Terror broke through the still air as it swooped down towards Hiccup and company. Astrid kept an eye on the Italians who didn't seem to flinch at the sudden appearance of another dragon at it scurried along the grass. Hiccup and the other knights were expecting some kind of reaction from the Italians at the moment, but they kept still and talked amongst themselves unconcerned. Astrid, figuring she would try and show that the group was friendly, crouched down to the dragon that approached the four curiously.

"Hey little guy. It's alright, yeah we're friendly with dragons. Come here." She put on her most annoyingly sweet tone to the small creature that stopped a few feet before her.

"Come on. Come on." Astrid twitched some fingers towards herself and hoped the creature would approach. She decided it was probably shy, and went to take it in her arms.

She did not expect it to hiss at her and fly away, much to the surprise to the other riders.

She certainly did not expect it to fly up towards the Italians and latch on to one their shoulders, curling around his neck closely. It stuck its tongue in its eye as they tended to do and watched the other dragons curiously.

"Well...that's new." Astrid said as she stood back up, somewhat frazzled by the dragon's rebuttal to her advances. The four Italians looked about one another as the Terror gripped the curly blonde hair of the one who it rested upon.

"Uh...Guy? Want to try talking to them? Maybe...I don't Latin maybe?" Hiccup was surprised that the dragon showed so little fear around the Italians, and even more so that the Italians didn't seem to mind the dragon considering they were allowing it to rest on one of themselves.

"I'm a bit rusty..."

"Yours is still better than any of ours lad, get talking." Luke encouraged the Norman on, who complied given that the circumstances held no further options.

"Alright...Salve amici!" Guy started to walk towards the group with extended arms, putting on his most diplomatic demeanor as Cindre looked on unconcerned. If a Terrible Terror was good enough for the strange scythe wielding men, so was she. Astrid walked over to Hiccup, perplexed by the circumstances.

"This is certainly...different." Astrid was at least pleased that the Italians seemed to show no concern around the Terrible Terror. While Hiccup remained skeptical of the situation, he responded calmly as Guy and the blonde haired man with the Terrible Terror grew close and talked in Latin.

"Yeah, can't say I expected...this." Hiccup gestured to the group that was beginning to draw close as Guy stepped back, seeming to talk about the dragons in slow but steady Latin. The blonde seemed quite interested as the Terror moved from his shoulder to the top of his scythe, balancing gently on the curved blade.

He had spent much of the morning flight stewing over the night's events. Their close call with the hails of crossbow fire had been invigorating, but it was equally disconcerting. Hiccup had been hoping, been praying that if he could just somehow convince the single unifying voice of the Church of what he saw in dragons, then he could end this heartless persecution. Instead, he had to live with the solemn and heart tightening reality that it wasn't likely that it was going to stop at any point in the foreseeable future.

Guy and the blonde haired Italian grew closer. Guy's Latin, while scattered and uneasy was seemingly enough to carry on a suitable conversation with the leader of the group as they approached the other dragons.

"Guy, tell them to put down their scythes."

Hiccup ordered as Toothless started to curl around Hiccup as the five closed in. While the dragons on Berk had grown used to the presence of leftover weapons in households and in village life gradually, they were understandably protective and apprehensive against any stranger who brandished steel, even if the blade was designed for cutting grass, not people.

Guy managed to get the four to lower the blades, the Terrible Terror leaping back onto the head of the blonde haired leader as they approached with open palms to signify they meant no trouble.

"Ut ego tangere eum?"

The leader asked Hiccup as he approached Toothless, the Night Fury still skeptical of the strangers. Hiccup tilted his head, the Latin falling apart on his ears as nothing more than nonsense.

"Latinus non amicum." Guy responded to the leader while looking to Hiccup.

"He asks if he may inspect Toothless."

"Go ahead."

Hiccup was rather interested in these people. They didn't seem to show any apprehension or aggression towards the dragons, and the purple Terror clinging to the curls of the leader's hair was indeed intriguing. He desperately wanted to know more, but was upset that once more he had to rely on Guy to speak for him given his knowledge of languages. If Hiccup had never been chief or were as concerned with hunting down this Night Fury as he was he would love to study the foreign tongues. But circumstances were what they were, and he could only hope his newly acquired cousin was doing a better job now than in the early hours of the morning.

Toothless, sensing that he once again had to fulfill his duties as ambassador for all dragon kind stepped forward and approached the leader; who kept his distance a few feet away and offered a limp hand to the Night Fury. The dragon sniffed the blonde a few times and kept a steady distance, trying to detect some kind of malevolence emanating from the person.

Hiccup watched, carefully seeking any kind of cue from the dragon as to whether or not the people could be trusted. The three others kept to themselves, exchanging glances with the other dragons that were equally attentive to the thoughts and opinions of the Alpha.

"Vadam sum Amicus."

The blonde whispered to the Night Fury. The Terror on his shoulder leapt down and bowed to Toothless in the grass, giving his respect to the alpha as any dragon should.

"Mmh, quod nunquam ante videram."

The blonde took a step forward with a modicum of caution towards Toothless; who despite trying to find something to condemn could not find an immediate cause for concern with the man. The Terror got out of the way as Toothless approached and leaned his head forward towards the man, allowing the brown draped figure to lightly rest his palm on the dragon's head. The Night Fury sometimes disliked that he was always called upon to make this connection with foreign people, but as long as such actions made his master happy and guaranteed them all safe travels he was willing to put his neck on the line in the name of diplomacy.

"Ah, satis est creatura."

"Guy?" Hiccup asked of his cousin, unsure of how exactly the situation was going.

"They seem to be getting along well..."

Guy trailed off as Toothless started to roll on the ground, beginning to enjoy a strong scratching regimen with the blonde who smiled and laughed at the sight. The Terrible Terror wandered off to another one of the Italians, distraught that his place had been temporarily taken.

"Yeah. So...who are they?"

Hiccup asked as he pointed to the rest of the group who were laughing in amusement at seeing their leader rolling around in the grain with the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

"They are monks. Their monastery is over a few of these hills and they were out doing some harvesting when they saw you go down."

"What about the dragon?"

"They don't seem to have a problem with them. Apparently they have several at the monastery and they have gotten along for years. They're just interested in the fact of us riding them is all."

Such information was welcome to Hiccup's ears. The long and depressing morning was starting to turn around for the better.

"Vos amici mei estis, quam gratus hic!"

The leader exclaimed as Toothless leaped off of him and towards the other Italians who despite a second of hesitation were equally interested in meeting the Night Fury who approached them with a curious expression.

"What he'd say?" Astrid asked with a yawn, relieved that the situation had deflated to a mostly pleasant encounter. Guy yawned himself and grinned as he addressed his comrades.

"I think we just got ourselves some beds for the day."

* * *

><p>Even a bed consisting of burlap and straw was enough for the four travelers as they slept away much of the day. Each dragon had kept with their respective master, protecting them in each individual's temporary quarters. Hiccup and company had seen several more Terrible Terrors hiding in the corners and flying amongst the high ceilings of the monastery. They had seen a few Gronkles as well when they approached the building, seeming to be assisting other monks with farm work in the manner of horses. The Monastery itself was of a respectable size and hosted easily one hundred brothers all clad in brown. It was divided amongst several buildings including a dining hall, living quarters and other smaller building dedicated the works of farming. Hiccup and company had paid little attention to these exterior details however, and were more simply grateful to have some kind of actual living quarters in which to relax after a stressful day before.<p>

They were raised as the sun began to fall and led to the dining hall. The dragons joined them without any real concern by the other monks and were fed appropriately. Though Hiccup could see Toothless' disappointment at having to have a dinner of cattle instead of fish, the dragon accepted the offering with dignity, ripping apart the bull with little apprehension as Cindre, Stormfly and Agnes all accepted their own portions gratefully. Hiccup and the others were invited to sit at the front of a long dining table, one of three arrayed in a row along the width of the dining hall. Though the dragons were granted what to any human would be a feast, the visiting humans were left with only a small bowl of admittedly hearty looking soup; and despite how much the group wanted to get right down to eating, they all stood along with the monks waiting for something.

That something came from a voice at the opposite end of the hall. It was an aged tenor that let out a low tone, singing a sequence of verses in Latin with a beautifully determined voice. Hiccup and Astrid looked to themselves and to Guy and Luke to understand what exactly what was going on. Before any kind of visual answer could be given, the rest of the monks joined in the chorus. Deep and heavy bass and baritone melodies reverberated off the stone walls of the hall, enveloping the ear with sound and washing it in the reverberations of the chant. Hiccup decided to keep his head down, trying to pick up on the individual words being enunciated and pronounced with fervor and dedication by the assembled brothers. Astrid leaned her head back and embraced the sweet music, letting the deep sounds wash over her ears like a soothing river of voices. As soon as it began, the chant suddenly stopped, the last echoes of it quickly falling off the walls as the monks went to sit.

The group took their cue and took their own seats, and following the lead of the other monks began to eat. The soup was gamey tasting and packed with herbs, but was good enough to be eaten quickly and graciously by the guests. Giovanni, the blonde the four had met in the field sat to Astrid's left and conversed with Guy who sat opposite of him. Hiccup knew he had to pass the mantle of leadership to his cousin for the meantime by virtue of his fluency in Latin. The chief made a note to himself to learn the language in due time, as he hated being stuck in a position of powerlessness due to the language barrier. Hiccup consumed his stew slowly, fighting his way through the overpowering taste of rosemary. Astrid was equally at odds with the scented concoction, though Luke seemed to devour his portion regardless of scent or taste.

"So, guess this day took a turn for the better." Astrid next to Hiccup, confident in talking as loud as she wished amidst the foreigners.

"I would agree, although may I advise we get to work on that suspension rod as soon as possible?"

Luke was quick to enter the conversation having already downed half his stew at a rapid pace. "Yeah we'll get to it Luke. You in a hurry?"

Hiccup retorted before taking another spoonful of the meager dinner. "Just don't want to lose whatever progress we've made in tracking this Night Fury down. Want to make sure we catch up with it as soon as possible."

"Well what's got you so enthusiastic all of a sudden?"

Astrid inquired as she tore some of the bread she had been given. "Nothing. Just want to make sure our endeavor is fulfilled is all." Luke took a sip of watered down ale as he finished.

"Well then I wouldn't have as much time to spend with my new cousin now would I?" Hiccup smiled at the remark as he gestured to Guy, enthralled in a Latin conversation with Giovanni. Luke merely ducked his head aside as he continued his drinking, Hiccup moving to get back to talking with Astrid.

_Your cousin is going to be leading us into a war. That's what I'm 'enthusiastic' about..._

"Guy told me they apparently have a forge here. I guess I can make a new rod in the morning and we can set off tomorrow afternoon."

"Where to then?"

"Uh...good question. Guy?" Hiccup distracted his cousin, eager to see what information he could get out of the monks by way of his familial translator.

"Mmh? Yes my friend? Ah I was just telling Giovanni here about how I came to know you, what with Guillemot finding you that morning and whatnot."

"Yes well let's please refrain from telling them about our little last night shall we? I'd rather not forsake a bed because Astrid dragged another man out of his."

Astrid smirked to the reference to her daring performance. Regardless of how she felt about the motives and consequences of kidnapping the Pope, she couldn't deny it was certainly going to be a good story for when she got back to Berk.

"Anyway Guy, do these monks know anything about the Night Fury? Can you ask?"

"Of course! Giovanni amicus meus..."

Guy got to talking with the leader of the monks and got back to Hiccup a moment later with a response.

"Apparently it was spotted not too far away from here just a week ago and was last seen crossing the sea towards Greece." "Guess we'll just keep heading East then, towards Miklagard."

"Then I suppose I shall continue to join you. No sense in leaving you when so close to the Holy Land."

"We'll stick together then."

Hiccup took a drink as he let Guy get back to talking with Giovanni. The monk seemed perfectly content in the group's presence, nor did the dragons in the corner of the hall seem much of a distraction to any of the Italians.

"It's amazing." Astrid remarked as she looked around the hall. The monks seemed to be eating as one, quietly conversing with another while throwing scraps of bread to the wayward Terrible Terror that swooped down from the support beams high above.

"Yes, it's been a while since I've been in the company of monastic brothers, forgotten what a wild bunch they are." Luke responded with a snarky tone which brought out a smile from Hiccup and Astrid.

They had heard of such people from Luke, of those that shut themselves away from the world to be one with God. Hiccup supposed that in being cut off from the world, they were as equally cut off from the prejudices and hatred that pervaded others of their faith. These few had created their own Berk here in Italy, right beneath the nose of the leader of continent wide persecution. It was an oddly fitting scenario, to be so close to the core of the hatred and yet so removed from it. Hiccup was distracted by a flurry of Latin that seemed directed right towards him, and found Giovanni was addressing him directly despite knowing Hiccup could not understand him.

"Et pono coniungit et hoc in Normannica sanctus fuit?"

"Uh...Guy?"

"He is asking if you are joining me in campaign in the Holy Land."

"No." Luke decided to answer for Hiccup abruptly, startling the others with the determination and defiance. The knight was certain of his own answer, though Hiccup decided to instead give his own address.

"Tell him we'll see. If the Night Fury is going there, then it is there we shall go."

Hiccup gave Luke a frustrated look as Guy translated the response, and Astrid kept a leery eye on the Irishman, curious as to why the warrior was suddenly so apprehensive talking about the campaign.

"Certe ergo filii vestri desiderium."

"He says that he is sure your children would miss you both if you were both to attend this campaign."

Guy nervously told Hiccup, having been made aware of the difficulties he and his wife were having in conceiving. Hiccup's shoulders deflated at having the topic brought up, and he could sense Astrid's own pity for him as he shied away, much to Giovanni's confusion. Guy began to explain the situation to the monk as Hiccup and Astrid turned to each other uncomfortably.

"Don't worry you two. It took my father seven miscarriages and two wives before God would finally will me to be born." Luke tried his best to console the two pensive spouses, finding the attempt was too little avail.

"Giovanni vere es amicus meus splendidissima!" Guy exclaimed loudly and with a smile as he turned over to address the others.

"What?" Astrid asked, interested in the sudden outburst of enthusiasm.

"Giovanni here just had a brilliant idea! I had told him of how you two are but recent converts to the faith, and of you were married as pagans."

"Yes..." Astrid let on as Guy gathered himself to proceed.

"Well then he believes he has the key to your little...uh...marital problem. If you are properly married now considering you have been brought into the folds of the faith, then it would make sense for God to finally bless you with child. What do you say eh?"

Guy was notably enthusiastic at the prospect as Hiccup and Astrid absorbed the words. They had tried most everything else to no success. The logic did seem sound...

"Well...what do you say Astrid?" Hiccup asked, making it clear that he was up for the idea.

"Eh... I suppose you're still worthy enough to marry again."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"That's what it was meant as." She gave her husband a coy smile and he reciprocated, drawing from Luke the look of annoyance so prevalent on those alone in the company of lovers.

"When should we expect this Guy?" Hiccup asked the Norman who was elated at the prospect. Giovanni, not needing to hear the response in Latin to know what it was rose quickly and called the hall to his attention.

"Fratres cito perficere, nos habere ad induendum ad nuptias!"

* * *

><p>Night had fallen and with its arrival came a sense of serenity to the monastery that mingled with Astrid's anticipatory nerves. While she was nowhere near as nervous as she had been in her first wedding to Hiccup, there was something about going through the whole ceremony again that still made her stomach a little uneasy. It wasn't that she had any apprehensions-she would gladly marry Hiccup every day if necessary-but it was more so an uneasy hope that this ceremony would work. She had prayed ever since her own conversion that maybe one day she and Hiccup would be blessed with child. And while they had certainly tried-a lot-she still remained barren. It angered her, how her own body seemed determined to deny her the goal of children. Granted she knew that pregnancy was going to be a painful and stressful affair, but it was one she was willing to go through for the sake of producing an heir, and for creating something with Hiccup that was distinctly their own.<p>

She could hear the monks getting everything ready on the opposite sides of the chapel doors, where Hiccup had been secluded to work alongside his cousin to get some aesthetic preparations ready. She had put on some of the lighter clothes she had bought when the group had stopped in Pisa a few days prior. She decided to abandon her armored skirt for a more comfortable and visually pleasing one of light blue that drifted down well below her knees. It certainly wasn't suitable for flying, but Astrid could concede she would enjoy wearing it on warmer and easy going days back on Berk. She opted for a white blouse that was a little too big for her, but it was equally light and comfortable, and that was what she was going for tonight. Her scarlet shawl was wrapped loosely around her head. She had protested with Luke that it was unnecessary and didn't go well with her other clothing, but the Irishman had insisted that she needed something to remove from her head upon the end of the ceremony. She thought it was a peculiar custom, but she was not going to make a big fuss out of it when such an important occasion was rapidly approaching.

"Well, can't say I had necessarily expected this today." Luke laughed as he paced on the nearby grass. He had jokingly insisted on acting as Astrid's guard while she waited, stating that all upcoming brides must be protected from possible wrongdoers before being escorted to their husbands. In actuality he simply didn't want to do any of the preparation work and instead opted to pass his time with small talk.

"Yeah, it took us a whole six months to plan out and prepare for our first marriage, I'd be amazed if these monks can actually pull it off by the end of the night."

"Eh, they're monks. They're an industrious assortment. Don't fret my lady, we will have you married off by the end of the night don't you worry." Luke took a bow as he exalted his promise, making it clear that he was being dramatic in his tone.

"Okay firstly...only Hiccup gets to call me his 'lady'. And secondly, I'm not being 'married off' to anyone. I'm just...allowing...Hiccup to marry me again."

"Ah yes because the might Astrid Haddock submits to no man! She is strong! Courageous! She does not bow or submit to any man's proposal of marriage, but rather forces it upon him!" Luke was boisterous and admittedly amusing with his dramatic tone and wild arm gestures, as if trying to put on a play all by himself. Astrid decided he needed an extra actor.

"Exactly! Astrid takes command! Astrid does not change who she is or what she does for anyone!"

"Of course! How could she ever abandon her proud Viking ways and be 'married off' to a man? No! She chooses her men, makes them come to her!" Astrid leaned back against the chapel door laughing as Luke stuttered around on the grass laughing himself. He drew his sword-kept by his side for the sake of appearing formal- and raised the hilt to his head in a gesture of salute.

"And I swear upon my honor that I shall assist the Lady Astrid in her quest to find a suitable husband! I shall escort and protect her for as long as it takes to find a suitable spouse...so help us God!" Astrid leaned over in a fit of hysterics at the dramatic folly, Luke keeping his sword salutary with a stone face, refusing to betray his false sense of purpose.

"Well we don't have to travel far my noble servant. I think I have found somebody at long last suitable, and he's right behind these doors." Astrid tapped the wood forcefully, wishing Guy would open them up and let them get on with the occasion.

"Well then-Luke sheathed his sword and made good posture in keeping with his warrior tradition-then I believe my work here is done. I think it time for myself to be on my way and to find a proper spouse of my own! Now if only I had a guard for myself..." "

"Oh worry not Sir Luke! When we get back to Berk the chief and I shall make sure all the proper arrangements are made between you and Ruffnut!" A pregnant pause overcame the two, recognizing the promise that had been made.

"Well um...uh...thank you then Lady Astrid. I...look forward to it." Luke immediately lost his sense of usual confidence as he looked towards the ground.

"What? I've seen the way you two hound after each other. Ever since you washed up on Berk she seemed to take a liking to you, and you to her. You're just lucky her parents keep such a tight leash on her when it comes to suitors or we would have had Haakon draw up a contract once your wound healed up."

Luke began pacing again, a deep breath restoring his sense of purpose and determination in speaking. "It's not that I don't love her. It's just...not exactly how I imagined my life. Can't really say anything that's happened since I washed up had been anything I'd fancied in my dreams. Then again, I can't really complain much now can I?" He asked the question rhetorically, Astrid knowing that was Luke was quite sincere in his efforts to adapt to life on Berk.

"Yeah...well I can say the same thing. All of us can. If it hadn't been for Hiccup, I would still be stuck on Berk killing dragons like Stormfly. If you had still washed up, you'd probably willingly join us in the fighting."

"Eh...no denying that now can I?" Luke admitted his character with another question.

"And I probably would have never accepted the faith. We'd probably have kicked Daniel out the first chance we got. We certainly wouldn't have let him stay in the chief's house that's for sure..." Astrid trailed off, considering the subject a moment. A life without Hiccup would have meant a life without Daniel, without the faith. It was a humbling possibility. Luke sensed Astrid's own inner tension and moved to the opposite side of the doors, leaning against them with a sigh.

"You know they remind me a lot of him; the monks. I'm sure he would have fit right in here provided he didn't...you know." Luke let on about the uncomfortable fact that he knew still upset Astrid more than a year later. In his first few days of recovery from his wound on that fateful day he had been witness to Astrid's grief over the loss of the difficult friendship she had had with Daniel. It saddened his heart to see such grief; even his own mourning for his friend did not last quite as long nor was it so severe. He was among the few that knew just how severe Daniel's affection for Astrid had run, and he long suspected an unfulfilled tension in Astrid's grief.

"I still miss him sometimes." Luke added, noting how Astrid had become crestfallen at broaching the subject. "Sometimes I feel as though-"

"I don't want to talk about him," Astrid cut Luke off quickly, "Not right now."

She felt she should be more open about the subject, especially with someone who had equal right to call Daniel a friend. Still, she didn't feel quite right discussing him at the moment, especially before being wedded to Hiccup-again. Daniel's death had left her feeling a difficult to sort flurry of emotions. First there was of course sadness to see such a good and honest man be struck down by one as deceitful and lowly as O'Neill. Then there had come anger-a more common feature of her personality-directed towards most everyone. Towards Hiccup for having been so reluctant and in showing poor judgment during the whole ordeal. Towards O'Neill for obvious reasons. Towards Luke for not having been strong enough to stop the bishop that morning. Even towards herself. She was angry that she had not been competent enough during the battle and because of that Daniel had stepped in and gotten himself killed. Above all she was angry at Daniel himself for that. For being foolish enough to ultimately give his life for the island, and for her.

She often went over the last night she had known Daniel in her mind from time to time, thinking that it was not so much out of a willingness to defend his faith but rather his love for her that had caused him to end up at the edge of O'Neill's sword. It was his love of her. The thought still made her uncomfortable. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be sought after during that time, with Snotlout finally relinquishing his efforts after her by the age of eighteen. The look on Daniel's face that night, the sight of his own inner conflict with his affections never left her memory. She still pitied the thought of the man forlorn in love, divided by desires of the body and mind. While granted she liked Daniel, it annoyed her that her most lucid memory of him involved him confessing his love, a love of a very different nature than the innocent one he so passionately professed. Regardless of this fact, her love still belonged to the man she intended to marry in a few minutes. This cold splash of reality was enough to pull her away from woeful introspection to the fact at hand, that she was about to marry the man she truly loved-again.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to snap at you Luke."

"That's alright, I'm used to it." Astrid brushed off the sarcastic jibe as the two continued to wait on the opposite ends of the chapel doors, enjoying the light wind as it finally cooled the ground after a dry if hot day. Thinking of heat got Astrid thinking about another similar hot place, and this prompted her to question Luke.

"Hey Luke?"

"Yes?"

"Why were you so quick to say 'no' earlier? When asked if we were joining Guy in the Holy Land."

Luke took a moment to gather a response as he pursed his lips, trying to keep his true thoughts to himself for the moment in the name of letting the night go smoothly. "Well we aren't are we? I mean...that was the condition Hiccup had given guy when we let him join us wasn't it...that we'd only stick together as long as we were following the same path? No reason to get caught up in a war if we don't have to."

"But what if the Night Fury were to go the Holy Land? Why not get involved in the war then?" Though Astrid was not very seriously considering the possibility of getting involved in the holy war, it was an interesting hypothetical to contemplate for the moment. At least she thought so.

"Well why would you want to get involved in a war?" Luke asked nervously, expecting the question Astrid asked next. "Are you telling me that the great SIR Luke O'Gara is afraid of combat all of a sudden? How many men and dragons have you killed again?"

Astrid was finding it increasingly strange that the man she knew to be a competent and willing warrior was so uneasy about discussing a conflict they may not even be involved in.

"Twenty four men and at least sixty dragons."

"Then what do have to fear? Are infidels really such a threatening enemy that even the valiant SIR Luke O'Gara is afraid of them?" Luke bowed his head, unsure of how to give a proper response. "Is Lady Astrid's protector scared of a couple of infidels? Is that it?" Astrid became playful in tone, curious as to what was truly the reason for the Irishman's apprehension. "Is he scared for me?" She smiled at what she considered an amusing comment, and Luke even managed a smirk at the jest.

A deep and resounding melody rose up from inside the chapel. Guy slowly opened the doors with a powerful grin and invited Astrid in. The moment had come. She stepped in as the monks in the pews rose in respect, joining in the melody. It sounded vaguely familiar to Astrid. She felt that Hiccup and Guy had superficially taught the monks the tune for the occasion.

_"Lorem natare et navigare freto_

_Cum non a timore submersionem_

_Et libenter equitare undas vitae_

_Si vis me nubere"_

She proceeded down the aisle, Luke escorting her to Hiccup before taking a seat in the front row. Giovanni was still in his brown robe, rather bland attire for a wedding but understandable considering the monk's usually secluded life. Hiccup stood attentively in his armor, freshly polished and glimmering in the light of the century of candles that lined the chapel all around. The husband and wife met graciously as Giovanni went about the ceremony in a flurry of Latin. Luke kept to himself, head down and mind adrift, half in prayer and half wondering about what a new life on campaign would mean for him and his friends.

_It's not you I worry about..._

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><p><strong>Hello peoples!<strong>

**I am SO sorry about the delay in this chapter, but writer's block, distractions, Thanksgiving and the beginnings of finals preparations have kept me away from writing. Since finals are approaching, I may have less time to write the next few weeks. But once Christmas break comes around, then I guarantee I'll be getting these chapters out a bit faster.**

**I hope you enjoyed this here chapter. While it may not have been as action packed as the previous, I wanted to write a foil to the Pope by way of the monks, illustrating how circumstances can effect people's faith differently. Plus I realized while I the midst of writing this that in this entire universe I've constructed Luke and Astrid have never actually had a conversation by themselves, so I figured that would be amusing to put in there. **

**Two more chapters and we're in the Holy Land. I promise! It's just so tempting to explore this world while our group goes about their journey. Constantinople's our next stop, and I've got some interesting encounters planned for our travelers in such a city.**

**And yes, the song the monks are singing at the end if "For the Dancing and the Dreaming" in Latin. I couldn't resist. :)**

**Hope you enjoyed and if so please do leave a review with some feedback.**

**Mc out!**


	7. City of Gold

Though they were rather perturbed by the sounds of a second marital consummation coming from Hiccup's gifted cell, the monks were gracious enough to allow the group another day of rest and for Hiccup to make the necessary fixes for Toothless' tail rig. The monastery gave them a warm farewell as the group departed towards the Southern tip of Italy, continuing to endure the powerful and ever present Sun as they skipped across Adriatic islands into Greece.

They decided that the best places to scour for information at this point were other churches and monasteries, where Guy's knowledge of Latin allowed them a steady stream of fairly reliable information as they slithered their way through the barren and rugged mountains of Albanon and the rolling plains of Macedonia. The group found a regular supply of mountain caves for which to spend nights after long days of flying and waiting on Guy to gather information.

Some monasteries were rather helpful, graciously welcoming the aging man bent on partaking in the holy campaign. Others were more reclusive, wary of the Frenchman who was three years late to embark on the expedition. It was these more hesitant monks that also tended to have information on the crusading army that had passed through Byzantine lands in years prior, often having a fair deal of contemptuous things to say of the group. Of how there had been large scores of lowly peasants led by a few less then reputable knights. Of how they had pillaged the countryside and threatened Miklagard with destruction. Such stories were disheartening, especially to Guy who always asked each abbot leader of any Norman knights who had passed through the area. All were quiet on such matters either for a lack of information or out of a scorn for the Norman title, which then usually prompted Guy to leave lest he face the notorious wrath of old Greek men.

What information was granted to the travelers indicated that the Night Fury was still heading eastward, and apparently had crossed into the Saracen lands that lay beyond the dividing straights of Europe and Asia. Though Luke protested with increasing determination about nearing such a land, the group continued across Greece regardless.

They resolved that despite their less than positive experience in Rome, they would make a stopover at what Guy had called the "Second Rome", Miklagard. Hiccup and Astrid had heard scattered tales and stories of the fabled golden city, where the best of the best Vikings were said to voyage in search of wealth not by plunder, but employment. Hiccup was eager to see if he could meet some of these elusive mercenaries, eager to talk to someone besides his wife and friends in his native tongue, held back amidst the strange sounding Greek and Latin that confounded him endlessly. To talk with someone-anyone- regardless of a topic or duration. He needed Vikings, new Vikings to share tales and information with. He needed to lead, needed to get information himself. He needed to take charge, and he needed the people to be able to do so.

The city like most smelled of urine. Hiccup found that Greek urine was quite unique in the way that it started off as pungent but bristled the back of the nose with a scent of decaying fruit, seeking to lure the smeller of the false sense of security that what he was smelling was not in fact urine. It wafted out of the dark and stained gutters that ran the lengths of the streets, giving one no escape from the nauseating aroma.

They had landed in the early hours when much of the city was still asleep. As there was no nearby forest at which to conveniently land the dragons, they had opted for a riskier if more rewarding strategy. They decided instead to have all four dragons land on the roof of a large church near the center of the city, so high up that no man on a roof could look down upon them. Hiccup had flown each person down to the bottom on Toothless, and then used his flight suit to descend down the wide domed cathedral. While they knew it was dangerous to have the dragons in the heart of the city, it was the best option. Hiccup could only hope that Toothless would keep the other dragons in line and grounded on top of the imposing church.

The inside of the massive domed building astounded even Guy with the imposing architecture and breathtaking detail that adorned every wall. Rich and textured marbles of purple, white and black layered the walls, gold leafing shimmering on the sides. Brilliant gilded patters of geometry adorned every wall, mingling with large and detailed mosaics of Jesus, the saints and a plethora of other seemingly important figures that Hiccup had neither heard of nor did he care to learn much about. They spent dawn in Mass along with a large assembly of city folk. While Luke had told Hiccup and Astrid that there were differences between the way Irish and Greeks performed the Mass, it hadn't been enough to prepare them for _how_ different it was. For starters, Greek made even less sense to Hiccup than Latin even though both sounded so similar. The priest wore strange robes, noticeably different than Macintyre's. The church itself, while impressive considering its size and architecture was somehow...different. It just didn't feel like the church Hiccup was used to. It was decorated with strange looking pictures and its construction bore no resemblance to any of the kinds of churches Hiccup had seen so far in his travels. While granted it still served its function of giving a place for people to give homage to God, Hiccup felt more so compelled to give attention to the building than the being that supposedly resided within. The people were equally interesting, dressed in strange headwear and robes that, even though still being able to differentiate between classes, all together gave a sense that the city was totally united in its foreign culture.

Greeks-Hiccup became determined-were an _interesting _assortment.

With the Mass dismissed-and with the dragons apparently still keeping to themselves on top of the church and not drawing suspicion-the four began to roam the city and take in the sights. One sight was of great notice to Hiccup and Astrid especially.

Gold.

It was everywhere. Passing through people's hands, worn without worry of vanity on the clothes of merchants and nobles. It adorned many important buildings and gave color to flags denoting Imperial stations. Every passing second the inescapable allure of the yellow metal caught the eyes of one of the travelers. It was almost blinding in its prevalence; not even the woes of the dreadfully dressed poor could outdo the lustrous light of man's infinite metallic obsession.

Astrid, who thought her golden brooch of three triangles lined with emeralds was a true mark of distinction and class back on Berk couldn't help but feel slightly depressed at the far greater displays of grandeur and opulence that surrounded her. She had always thought herself a step above being so obsessed with vanity and perception, but the blinding flashes of gold that outperformed even her own beauty at every turn was distressing.

"So much wealth." She whispered to Hiccup as they turned a street corner, the shine of a gleaming bronze statue depicting some man of apparently great worth almost forcing the group to turn their eyes at the luster.

"I know. I feel...cheap compared."

Hiccup muttered as the four dodged and danced their way through the crowds that were all going about the business of the day; the traders, the thieves, the priests and the poor, all scurrying about in search of whatever gold the city would offer them. The splendor of this city that seemed to go on forever no matter how many streets they turned down was overwhelming. Though bolstered by his title of chief and the prestige he had brought to his village, there was still a part deep within Hiccup that held onto the feelings of inferiority and self pity that had been so prevalent in his youth. The awesome architecture and gleaming golden facades of this city certainly helped to make him feel small and powerless again, even with two capable knights and a loving wife by his side.

Even Luke and Guy-though much more familiar with city life and the appropriate splendors than the Vikings-were just as much struck by _how_ wealthy the city was. They had heard stories as all knights had of course, about the city that still held the flame of an empire long gone and financed the campaigns that held the foul Infidels at bay in Asia; but much like the touch of a woman or the taste of wine the dreams never seemed to quite live up to reality. And Constantinople was no exception to that rule.

"Κάντε το δρόμο για τον Αυτοκράτορα!"

A loud and growling voice boomed from the opposite side of a street corner where a group of people were being pushed forward by some other force hidden behind the corner buildings. The four decided to examine the commotion, having nothing else but inadequacy to fill their time.

" Κάντε το δρόμο για τον Αυτοκράτορα!"

That which rounded the corner and pushed the masses to the sides with impunity immediately caught the group's interest, if only by the inescapable gleam of gold that towered above the masses and caught the vibrant rays of the noonday sun with gracious acceptance. Hiccup awkwardly got on top of a few small stacked boxes to get a better look, and received one of the better looking looks he'd looked at in a long while.

A group of large men with notably tanned but obviously once fairer skin had formed a circular wall around and were moving along with another group of decidedly Greek men who were enclosed within. They wore defiant expressions as come to people in the midst of important tasks, and were notably well equipped for such an occasion, wrapped in chainmail and small arm guards that gripped tightly over well trimmed and tight fitting leather. Large and glimmering swords were brandished without much concern for whoever it came to close to killing, although they were wielded with enough skill that actual contact with civilians never occurred. One of the less martial looking men at the center in particular drew Hiccup's attention, his flowing deep purple robes embroidered with gold wafted gently in the light breeze, conveying that the man was bigger than he was. He was aged but appeared in excellent health, clearly having the best physicians available at his disposal to keep him in such good condition.

"Κάντε το δρόμο για τον Αυτοκράτορα!"

The large men who Hiccup began to ascertain were of the Viking quality he so desired to meet were clearing a path around the visibly exited and jubilant crowd towards the large building across the street from Hiccup, where lines of carved pillars held up a large and expansive building whose white facade of marble shone as brightly as any golden ring. The Varangians divided themselves into two lines on either side of the staircase as the man of such great importance and the less martial looking people around him ascended the multitude of stairs and soon disappeared amongst the pillars. The crowd began to dissipate and the Varangians gathered amongst themselves at ease, only a few following the man they had protected into the building.

With the Greeks leaving, Hiccup resolved to confront these rather intimidating looking guards. He needed to talk to someone different, even if that different someone appeared as though he could break Hiccup in two with the snap of his fingers.

"Are you sure?" Astrid was quick to pull on Hiccup's shoulder and drag him back as soon as she saw him begin to cross the street. She wasn't an idiot, she knew just as well as he the reputation the Varangians had, regardless of whether such stories were fact or fiction.

"They might be able to help us. Relax."

Hiccup pulled away from her with as much respect as such an inherently disrespectful gesture could have. Guy and Luke came up behind Astrid, equally interested in the coming confrontation.

"He's won't last a minute." Luke muttered dryly.

"Well he lasts longer when I'm around." Astrid said with the faintest innuendo in her tone as she moved to support her husband. Luke and Guy followed, each smirking to themselves at Astrid's humor.

"Excuse me?"

The Varangians, slightly less than two dozen in number all turned as a single unit at the weak and unconfident question, all summing up the man in front of them and waiting for an excuse to show their disrespect for the figure. They did not have to wait long.

"My name is Hiccup-" Snickers came up quickly from a few, drawing Hiccup's temporary ire before he continued. "-Horrendous Haddock III. Chief of Berk. Have any of you heard of it?"

The mention of his homeland brought a few perked eyes of interest to the assembled Norsemen who opposed Hiccup. Astrid and company joined him at the sides as a few Varangians conversed in Greek, others eyeing Astrid with a blatantly sinful enjoyment for the way her tunic gripped tightly to her upper chest. One of them, several notable decorations upon his chest and with a sword scabbard lined with rubies stepped forward, placing a palm over his heart and leaning forward in a bow that gave off more condescension than respect.

"Erland Erikson, Fourth Son of Erik the Conqueror. Proud servant to His Excellency Emperor Alexius and Fourth Captain of the Palace Guard. And to what do I owe the pleasure..._Hiccup_?"

Though the question dripped with a lack of respect for the fishbone, Hiccup gathered his resolve to reply. He needed answers and conversation, he had lived long enough without respect to find he could tolerate one more brief conversation without it.

"Anyway, we are in the area on a quest. We are hunting down the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself...the Night Fury"

A few of the Varangians betrayed their previous confidence and looked to the sky with sudden concern. Hiccup relished the face whenever he saw it. It was comforting to know Toothless' kind at least still kept a good and fearful reputation about them. Erland showed a growing interest in Hiccup, if only in how such a lanky and unimpressive figure could possibly be trusted to hunt for such a horrible creature.

"Is that so?" Erland folded his arms, daring Hiccup to continue speaking, which he did.

"Yes. We're...seeking to kill it so as to deny the species breeding stock." Nothing could have been further from the truth, but Hiccup found that lies could go a long way to discovering the truth. Erland tilted his head back and smirked, Hiccup noted the less than empathetic smiles on the faces of the other Varangians.

"Mmh...'fraid there's no killing Night Furies lad. I had a friend commanding a company of Guards three weeks ago when the beast attacked Thessalonica. He died in the ensuing city wide fire, along with the rest of the company. And they were twice the man you could ever wish to be" Erland gave a cursory and intentionally insulting look to Hiccup before continuing. "A piece of glass like yourself wouldn't last half a minute in battle with one of those beasts...provided you could even get it to stay in one place long enough."

"Well that's why I have company. Meet the _wife_, Astrid." Hiccup pulled her close while she kept a stern grin on the Varangians who she knew were doing wretched things to her in their minds. Such is the price of God-given beauty. She could feel the way determined way in which Hiccup had said _wife_, hoping to cause some of those thoughts to cease with the defiant proclamation. They probably didn't, but she appreciated the effort on his part to protect her honor.

"And my _huscarsl, _Lief and Olaf. They are fine warriors, and they will help me kill the demon. So with that settled, I am wondering if you had any information as to where it might be." Hiccup managed his most forceful yet diplomatic expression, hoping that this endeavor would pay off.

"Ha! Well I tell you what..._Hiccup_...I'd advise crossing the strait into Asia. Demon is probably attacking Trebizond by now. And while we're on the topic of suicidal endeavors, why don't you try joining up with the Franks that are off trying to win back the Holy City? It would be far nobler death than your pointless pursuit of a shadow." The other Varangians chuckled at the remark of their leader, clearly holding their own perceptions of the Crusaders who had passed through the city some time ago.

"What have you heard of them?" Guy broke into the conversation, always eager for possible news about the condition of his son. Erland crossed his arms as curiosity came across his face.

"Who wants to know?" Guy approached, not intent on letting the large guard intimidate him in any way. Hiccup looked aside a moment as he rolled his eyes. _Dat da da...we're dead._

"I have heard stories of the holy army, of how they have had...difficulties...in this land. Was this so here? What did you see about them?"

Hiccup breathed relieved that Erland was not overly concerned by Guy's questions, and answered them with a modicum more respect for the Norman.

"The first wave that came through was bit of a nuisance. Bunch of kids trying to play knight and peasant rabble. But nothing we couldn't take care of, right Gunter?"

"Franks make great punching sacks." Another of the Varangians spoke up from the group that gathered behind Erland, fascinated by the conversation with the strange people. "Indeed. Next wave was a little better organized though. Enough of the damn French had a head about them to keep the men _mostly_ in line. So Alexius had them shipped over the strait and sent them on their way. He's got an army over there as well that's supposed to help them. Can't say I envy the poor bastards though."

Erland scoffed as he dismissed the efforts of men set on campaign. It started something within Hiccup, an instinctive desire to stand up for those disrespected by others, a private crusade of his own inspired by his past.

"And why is that?"

Erland looked back to Hiccup, feeling surprised he had to defend himself. "Now don't get me wrong, I'd just as much love to decapitate a good Saracen as much as the next guy. But the poor lads are walking into a death trap. No army-especially no army led by Franks-can stand up to the Turks. Even if I would enjoy the opportunity, it's not worth setting out on campaign for."

"Then why don't you take it...the opportunity?" Hiccup pressed on, showing as little respect for the guard captain as the captain showed to him.

"Well...someone's got to make sure His Excellency's not getting axed by one of his family. Got to keep Alexius going so he can keep his damned campaigns going."

"So you're telling me that a Viking-Hiccup felt a little hypocritical debating what made a Viking a Viking, but dismissed this as he longed to make his point known-would rather sit around a plushy palace than be out there in the field fighting, serving his Emperor AND God?"

The chief hoped that bringing faith into the conversation might allow him an edge. Erland's response of laughter perturbed him. "Oh now here we've got another crusader it looks like lads!" The rest of the Varangians chuckled as though given a cue, their humor just another order from their captain that they followed. "Someone's been reading too much scripture!"

The bringing up of faith started to stir emotions within Astrid as well, who leaned in close to Hiccup as her husband continued his standoff with the Varangian. "Are you telling me that a fellow man of God doesn't want to take back the holy cities? Do you care that little about your faith?" While Hiccup had hoped the insult would strike some sense into Erland, it only seemed to draw out a look of contempt and annoyance as the captain leaned in close.

"Right now look here _Hiccup_...you can go and play soldier in the sand all you want, but just because that's what you think is right doesn't mean I think it is, nor do we care much about it. We're not here to serve _God_, we're here because Alexius needs some muscle around him. He and all his damn advisors are the ones you'd want to talk to about this idiotic endeavor, not us." Erland leaned back and spanned his arms to gesture to all those behind him. "We're here for payment, not piety."

The statement hung in the air a moment as Erland and Hiccup stared each other down. Though at nearly the same height, Erland's proliferation of muscle that dwelled beneath his robes and chainmail still served to intimidate. Refusing to give ground to such a man, Hiccup persisted, knowing he was entering a dangerous area of conversation.

"Pathetic." Erland's eyes fell back into their sockets at Hiccup's audacity. "You come down here and pledge loyalty to God only because of greed? You abandon all the good old Viking joys of battle for the sake of a life of luxury and complacency? And you still call yourself Norsemen?" Whether or not Erland was meaningfully contemplating Hiccup's words or not was irrelevant. The rage at being insulted that he felt was. This rage was manifested into a fist, and this fist was propelled towards Hiccup's face with alacrity and determination.

"Sly little bastard!"

The fist never made impact, and was instead caught by Astrid's own hand. She held it firm for a minute before twisting the wrist back forcefully and bending Erland's arm around so that the Varangian collapsed onto the ground with a groan. She stomped one of her boots onto his back, drawing another groan of surprise and pain. The rest of the guard held back, smiling at the sight of a Norse beauty rendering their officer thwarted on the ground.

"Nobody hits my husband except me!"

"...Thanks?" Hiccup muttered as Astrid released her grip on Erland and stepped off of him, whipping her hair back and making good posture again; all the while tilting her head at the other Varangians, half daring them to come at her with the faintest of demur and beckoning expressions.

_Men...too easy._

Guy leaned over to Luke, confused by Astrid's statement.

"Is this how courtship functions on Berk?" Luke took a second to remember his many times spent with Ruffnut, and the many times it had resulted in him being punched in the jaw. It made him sigh, and with this sigh came a response.

"Regrettably."

Erland rose soon after the pressure on his back was relieved, and looked at disbelief towards the Valkyrie that had so rapidly disabled him. "Oh how quaint. Reminds me of the woman back home. Part of the reason I left..." Erland, growled at Astrid before lunging at her in an effort for vengeance. He found his advance was deflected when Luke pushed his arm aside and landed a blow to Erland's face, sending him back in shock.

"Oh no we don't lad. Nobody hits my chief's wife except for...him...I think." Luke disregarded his own doubt of word and held firm in the face of the Varangians, who were enjoying the show made at their leader's expense.

Once more Erland rose, dismayed at being deflected in releasing his rage yet again. These holier than thou travelers were becoming quite the annoyance to a man who usually commanded the respect of a saint when walking amongst the city folk. Once more determined to show dominance, Erland recovered and rushed forward again. His advance was halted by a small blade that nearly collided with his face, held firm at the end of a hand belonging to an aged but still capable warrior. "No sir. Nobody hit's my chief's friend except for...for me?" Guy turned back to Hiccup quizzically. "I-Is that how this works?"

"I...ta...uh...I...yeah probably." Hiccup nodded without much confidence as Erland backed down, none too interested in actual combat with steel now that it had been drawn. He withdrew back to the safety of his fellow guards, with whom he was none too happy in how they had refused to back him up.

Guy sheathed his knife quickly, being more than aware of the repercussions of presenting a blade to such a high ranking member of the Byzantine army. Erland righted himself with good posture, trying to redeem his sense of honor after the rather poor display by the decorated warrior.

"Alright...all of you!" He started, looking for something good to say to the defiant three who mutually protected themselves, and Hiccup."You're lucky Alexius is here on important business or I'd sick the rest of these lads on you." Erland extended his span to make the presence of the other Varangians known yet again. While the rest of the guard was less enthusiastic about any confrontation with what they considered entertainment, they still made themselves look threatening for the sake of staying in some kind of grace with their officer. "Get out of here. I see you lot around my city tomorrow and I'm not going to be so merciful."

"Yeah, neither will we!" Astrid defiantly proclaimed to the guard as she stepped forward in her most threatening manner. Guy and Luke took equally bold steps, leaving Hiccup behind his wall of defiant friends. She turned abruptly, intent to let the action startle the other guards with her fortitude, letting them ogle her with a respectful fear instead of a voracious lust. She led the way as the three knights each turned away, leaving the contentious situation behind them. Hiccup was the last to depart, giving a last passing look to Erland. All he had wanted to do was talk to somebody, and it ended up alienating them from some of the only people that could have helped them. It wasn't his best performance, but it was certainly consistent to his persona.

* * *

><p>"Opa!"<p>

Luke joined in with the surrounding Greeks as another collective round of poorly distilled liquor was downed by the assembly within the tavern. The chaos of the streets outside was not enough to drone out the consistently loud din of the consistently loud Greeks. He shook his head violently and made a pained expression as he downed the small amount of clear alcohol. Astrid and Hiccup knew Luke to be one who rarely drank beyond his limit, who was careful to always remain alert when around alcohol and never being rendered unable to fight if the situation warranted it. There was rarely an exception to this rule.

"Opa!"

Today was one of those exceptions apparently.

Luke and Guy were allowing themselves to indulge in the camaraderie and pleasure that a packed tavern in the richest city in the world could offer. The alcohol flowed, the women wandered, the chorus of drunken mayhem surrounded all and welcomed them in without discrimination. Hiccup and Astrid sat opposite the two knights, tending carefully to small wooden bowls that were yet to be fully emptied of their first rations of Greek liquor. One sip for both was enough to dissuade them from the burning, aggressive liquid that was quickly enveloping Luke in its warm, inebriating grip. The Celt was talking to all three in differing amounts and on constantly swaying subject, alternating between Norse and his native Gaelic, neither of which was very comprehensible given his increasingly slurred speech.

"An farmor, 'd lie to tie and see dat Var-var-gen bassa even try ta see 'im tae m'on! No man can goo a fi mint wit me an live ta tell bout it!"

"Opa!"

"Ya! Opa! Long liv th'empwerar!" Though owing no allegiance or care for Emperor Alexius, Luke had no qualms about joining in with the Greeks in celebration for some special occasion in honor of the Emperor they had seen earlier that day. The Irishman grasped Guy's shoulder to steady himself as he went on mumbling. "Good ol' empwaw, love him er sin I saw im today. You see what he wearing? Oh ki-I'd-kill fer som-fer som- Ba mhaith liom a mharú le haghaidh róbaí chomh deas leis na."

"Hahhhheeee!" Guy- equally sauced- hissed with laughter as he keeled over in amusement. This drew Luke's attention-or what little he could actually muster given his inebriation-as he quizzed his Norman friend.

"An was sa funny ya caithfidh sé a hiss agus gáire!"

"Ah there is!" Guy began to laugh again. Hiccup and Astrid looked on, amused at the two knights were loosening up for once.

"Oh yur voice! That Gallic way you speak wi' the accent!"

Guy continued hissing with laughter, devoid of any sense of what true humor constituted when wrapped in the warm glow of alcohol. "An I suppose is worse tha Fraince gcanúint dúr?" Luke took a moment to half compose himself, straightening in his chair and almost appearing presentable before his worst impersonation of French destroyed this perception. "Oh oh! Noo devin allar à Constantinople! Noos davons vur la vi de l'or et la grande aglise! Longue France viv!"

Guy and Luke shook their heads in laughter at O'Gara's droll, dry and overly stereotypical impersonation of the Norman. The married couple opposite couldn't help but snicker at Luke's innocent fun, and Guy was apparently determined to seek vengeance for it.

"Na as bad as ya 'rish!" Guy made a bloated gesture with his face that drew all's attention before speaking, using Norse as the language but slurring his words and raising their volume to mock Luke's Irish accent. "I don wan ta ga on the Crusae! I wan ta goo ba ta me islan weir ma gir-r-rl beas me up ery ti we kiss!"

Even if it was meant in a slightly insulting way, Luke roared with laughter at Guy's equally terrible impersonation of the Irish manner of speech. Even Hiccup had to concede that-though the pitch had actually been spot on-Guy simply couldn't articulate his tongue in the Irish way, the distinct manner of blended vowels and breaks between words was as elusive on the Norman as it is on all those not born to the emerald isle.

"Ah na you can't be hain on ma accen mae, i got mair ti wi these la ta mean I got the...more honar...can't be hatin." Luke looked towards Hiccup and Astrid, clearly not composing much of a coherent thought, but at least thinking he was. "Na ya two don think m'accent is ba do ye?" The couple looked to each other, trying not to giggle at the question. While when sober and seeking people's respect Luke spoke in a very dignified and respectable manner which was only bolstered by his accent, when drunk it only served to make his state of inebriation even more amusing.

"No Luke..."

"Opa!" Another call to drink came from somewhere deep within the bowls of the tavern, resulting in Luke and Guy each downing another bowl and scowling at the taste. Hiccup and Astrid each took another sip of their own, finding the taste was almost bearable in small amounts. "No Luke...you have a very nice accent-"

"A course I do! Ain't no lass ca resist the chars! Is wha got me Ruff sa quickly! An' it worked fer ya eh dint it?" Luke laughed as he gripped Guy's shoulder, drawing the Norman's attention despite his increasingly drooping head- the result of a man drinking more than his age should allow-and pulled his friend close, smiling with recollection and without a filter on his thoughts. Astrid kept a wary head on Luke, less than optimistic about what was to come out of the Gael's mouth.

"Why wen Daniel firs talked to ya don pretend he dinint ha the mos beautiful aseent ya ever herd? I mean he thought ye ha something een more beautiful..." Luke trailed off a moment, half guiltily pointing with his eyes to Astrid's chest. One snap of Hiccup's fingers were enough to draw him out of this trance to finish the sentence, not that Astrid or Hiccup were particularly delighted for him to continue speaking. "Oh no ba yur 'married off' ta "The Dragon Conqueror!" No lass respca-no respectle lass woul ha betraye "The Dragon Conquerer!" fer som sarry piece a Irish ass! Een if we do have tha mos beautiful assents an faeces the side a the sea!"

Astrid's lips twisted into a scowl. She _really_ did not like this topic being brought up, especially by Luke, and especially when he was _hammered_. Really_, really_ hammered. She could see Hiccup's own disgruntled expression as Luke leaned back in his seat, groaning as the boisterous din of another table of Greeks exploded into laugher at what was most likely a dirty joke.

"Too ba he got off his 'little shepherd' off an ya while tha pour bassa still live. Ya two would a mae a goooooood lille pair a samthin provida the lad ha some backbone, sides fra the one betwee is legs!" Luke broke off snickering again, no rational thought within his mind condemning his speech as improper in the circumstances. Astrid could feel her hands condensing into fists, trying with all her self control to hold back from clocking Luke right across the jaw as he was used to. Guy was falling into the table, passing out and removed from the conversation, much to Hiccup and Astrid's relief.

"A noo I mean na disrespect SIR Hic-Luke himself hiccupped rather unintentionally before continuin-cup..."The Dragon Conqueror!". I jus saying tha...ah you can't deny...ah you noo wha I'm talling bout. Ya know the wey Danny boy thought 'bout ol' Astrid an all that ass. Now I not _saying_ thar was anythin betwee the two ba even ya got ta think abo-"

The table shuddered with a sudden burst of energy. Hiccup could see a sudden withdrawl of color and constriction of pupils on Luke's face as he keeled over in a sudden burst of pain, grunting and swearing in Gaelic.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Dia mac damanta de bastaird soith!"

Hiccup didn't even need a second of thought to know Astrid had probably kicked the Gael in the chin. _Hard_.

He quickly felt her hand grip underneath his shoulder as she hoisted him out of his seat, taking a moment to down the last of the wretched clear alcohol as she did before turning towards the door, dragging Hiccup with her.

"Come on!" She pulled forcefully, yet her fingers gave off a subtle touch that they themselves would be doing other, more _delicate_ things to Hiccup shortly. The chief turned knight was certainly excited, albeit a tad worried about how Astrid would be in the coming..._stress release_. She was..._difficult_ when she was angry. Not that that was a bad thing, it was just...less romance, more anger. More so a raw, seething emotion as opposed to a delicate and controlled love. Not bad, just..._difficult._

They made for the door and Astrid was quick to knock it open, opening up to the street that still bustled with the comings and goings of late afternoon. Astrid stopped a moment, searching the street and looking for someplace that might have overnight lodgings. She saw a sign that-while unable to read it- might indicate that her goal had been reached, and started pulling on Hiccup again. "Uh Astrid...you alright?' "Do a good job and I will be!" She dragged him into the street, her husband half elated and half concerned for what lay ahead. Behind them the sounds of the tavern faded away, but not enough for them to hear one more exaltation, thick with liquor and an Irish accent.

"Ta Sir Hiccup! The Valkyrie Conqueror!"

"Opa!"

* * *

><p>"Oh Yes!"<p>

Astrid began to lean down towards Hiccup, a good forty minutes of grinding rhythm and endorphin release finally wearing her-and especially Hiccup-down to the point of exhaustion. She drifted off to his side, curling his arms around his neck as he pulled the thin sheets over them. Hiccup lay back against the pillows, groaning with a final release that had felt more forced than he would have preferred.

"If that's not a child...then I don't know what is."

The first place they had tried had turned out to be just another tavern, and it took Astrid dragging Hiccup's somewhat reluctant body around two different streets and going through fifteen different buildings before they found one respectable enough and willing enough to allow them a room for the night. It had cost them most of the rest of their combined silver, but Hiccup wasn't going to argue about economics when both Astrid AND sex were involved. It wasn't a good idea, he had learned from experience.

Though the room was lacking in most other furniture, it was nonetheless kept in a beautiful and ready state for whatever wayward couple sought to use it for the night. A large bed featured exotically colored sheets and a comfortable enough mattress. An overhead frame allowed for illustrious drapes of a transparent sky blue to enshroud the passionate couple, distorting their images to any that would dare disturb them with an opaque veil of azure. Three arched windows gave a pleasant view of the city outside, the noise of commerce and business fading away with the Sun. The lack of other furnishings indicated that, despite its well to do appearance the room was made for one purpose and one purpose only, and Astrid and Hiccup had lived up to that purpose graciously. It was a room dedicated to the most ancient of human customs, and was certainly not without stories of the many new ways that humans constantly reinvented and went about such an age old practice. Tonight the chamber had born witness to a talking fishbone and a Valkyrie working through the frustrations brought upon the latter by the words of a drunken Irishman, and the walls would certainly remember such a sight so long as they stood.

Astrid tugged lightly at the pink fabrics that Hiccup had half pulled up over his lower extremities. They were slick, thin and glided over her body in much the way that Hiccup's hands just had as they had worked together to bring about a change in mood between the two of them. She liked it; the touch was soothing and a relaxing change of stimulus after a long workout of passion.

"You alright now?" Hiccup muttered as she drew close to his face, his own head staring up at the ceiling were a basic geometric mosaic stared back down at him. He was counting the variance in color in the tiles that made up a square, needing something basic and trivial to distract him after such aggressive love-making.

"For now, check back with me later."

Hiccup only chuckled dryly as he drew Astrid closer, embracing the warmth of her body as she pulled the pink fabric tighter over the two of them. It was slick, thin, and glided over his body with too much ease. He had long heard of this so called miraculous fabric known as silk, but was finding it was severely failing to live up to his expectations of comfort. He decided to keep these complaints bottled up within him for now, not wanting to ruin the peace of the moment. He instead decided to settle on the circumstances that had led him to this moment in the first place.

"So...guess Luke really got to you."

Astrid sighed, closing her eyes a moment to think and holding back an urge to punch Hiccup in the arm for bringing the damned topic back up. She had just tortured him with ecstasy for the better part of an hour because of it, was he really such a glutton for punishment?

"I just...I just don't like talking about it, especially not with him and _especially_ when he doesn't know what he's talking about."

A pause passed between the two as Hiccup tried to find something to come back with, not quite sure how to address such a topic. He had talked it over with Astrid a few times in the weeks following Daniel's death, but since then he had considered the issue mostly settled between the two. They had come to an understanding regarding the matter that pleased them both, and he hadn't expected her to react so harshly to Luke-despite his annoyingly drunken demeanor- for bringing it up. Before he could divide these thoughts into a discernible sentence, Astrid continued.

"Look, I just don't like having to talk about..._that_. It's like he thinks...it's like he thinks I actually _wanted_...like I actually thought about it. But I didn't! And I just don't like it that he keeps thinking that!" She was growing defensive. She knew it didn't really reflect well on her, but she wasn't quite sure what to feel. What she was saying was a true and irrefutable fact, so then why was there any doubt as to where her fidelity had been all this time?

"You certainly get...riled up...whenever it's mentioned. I mean that was...what you did towards the end there that was...something."

He was right and she knew it. In those days following Daniel's death she had certainly been more..._aggressive_ in bed. They had both noticed, but he had chosen more so to enjoy and adapt to Astrid in such a state rather than to question what had caused such a change in her demeanor. Hiccup certainly knew what she could be like when she was angry, but whenever they were joined shortly after this topic was mentioned-which come to think of it was quite often the case-there was a certain...tenderness to her aggression. As though she were alight with the fires of rage and yet basking in the warmth of love, an oddly effective combination when it came to arousal if nothing else. Astrid turned over on to her side, beckoning Hiccup to look at her face-and only her face-as she tilted his chin towards her with a few soft fingers.

"I get riled up because I don't want anyone to ever doubt the fact that I love you. I don't want anything, not even a dead man to come between us...ever." She pressed a kiss, brimming with energy and passion to the side of his lips before falling back to her curled up position at his side, finding she had been weakened just as much as he by their mutual passion.

"Don't you fret mi'lady, I won't let a thing ever divide us. Ever. Hell if you feel like it you can punch O'Gara tomorrow for what he said tonight."He extended an arm past her neck and wrapped it over her back, drawing her in as close as he could.

"Mmh, that sounds nice." She mumbled out, reveling in the thought of beating Luke right across the jaw just like Ruffnut did, only without any sense of Viking love behind it. She could feel the vibrations rising from Hiccup's chest as he laughed at the prospect, finding equal amusement in it. He shifted his arm over her back and pulled at her body, seeking her warmth and presence in as many ways as he could. They lay in silence a moment before Astrid breathed deeply and made to speak again.

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah?"

"You _really_ stink."

Hiccup laughed a moment, more than aware himself of how much of an odor his body had acquired having been deprived a proper wash since Scotland. Even he couldn't deny that a bath would do all of them well.

"Yeah...so do yo-Ow!" Astrid kicked him in the leg, forcefully but with a hint of playfulness.

"What? You're allowed to say that I stink but I can't say the same?"

"That's not how a knight talks to his lady is it?" Astrid nudged in, trying to fill every space between them with her presence. Hiccup knew it wasn't worth further protest, and sighed as he embraced Astrid's presence.

"So I guess tomorrow its hit Luke in the face, then bathe, and then..." he trailed off, himself unsure.

"Just keep going?" Astrid figured it was a good enough response, and in all honesty it was. Yet the determination stirred an emotion within Hiccup that had been nagging at him throughout the day.

"Yeah..." Astrid could immediately pick up on the doubt in Hiccup's moan, and turned back on her side to find out what was troubling him. "What?" Hiccup stalled a moment, trying not to make himself sound weak despite how defeated his words would sound.

"Look it's just...I mean...I was just thinking...if it's in the Holy Land, and we're going there...I mean should-should we? I mean I know it's not what we were intending when we set out but..." He trailed off, seeking some kind of response.

"I don't know, what do you think?" Astrid threw the question right back at him, refusing to answer for him and not making him act like their leader who refused to make decisions. Hiccup moaned as he knew this was exactly what she was doing.

"Well look I mean...if we follow Guy there we might as well. Right? You know...we have the dragons, we have...you...it would be kind of disrespectful not to join in the fight wouldn't it?"

Hiccup's question dripped with doubt and apprehension, himself unsure of what exactly he was trying to recommend. Astrid however, was. "You really want to go join the army?"

"Well...I mean it wouldn't just be me...it would be-"

"Sure." Astrid was quick and determined in her answer, much to Hiccup's surprise. She laid one of her own hands over his chest, gently playing with the wispy hairs that ran down his sternum.

"You mean-" "Well I can't just let you and Toothless go off and have all the fun now can I? You may be a knight..._my _knight...but every knight needs his lady by his side does he not?"

"You've been listening to Guy too much."

Hiccup joked, holding back some sadder points of his soul that once again welled forward his sense of insecurity. Truth be told he didn't know if he could make it on campaign _with_ Astrid, let alone without her. He knew he wasn't exactly a warrior like Luke or Guy or Hell even his wife, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least _try_ and live up to his new found title on the field of battle did it? Even at the end of the day he had Toothless, and that alone made him reputable. All he needed was some combat experience, and he supposed that perhaps-just maybe-Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III might just have some martial valor to go along with his title.

"Maybe I have, but that doesn't mean he's wrong does it?" Astrid landed a soft and tender kiss on Hiccup's cheek before settling back down alongside him, content to stay like this as long as possible. Hiccup held her close, turning his face towards her and nuzzling his nose against the side of his hair.

"No it doesn't. Every knight needs his lady."

"And every lady needs her knight."

"Oh God can't it wait? Just a few more minutes? Please?" Astrid tightened her grip on Hiccup's chest hair, scratching the skin beneath with the just the slightest amount of force.

"Fine. But I expect something good when you're ready."

"Implying that..._that_ wasn't good?"

"No, it means I expect something just as good." Hiccup laughed, knowing he was certainly going to be living up to the responsibilities that a second marriage entailed. Relieved that he was at least being given a temporary respite before his services were called upon again, he let himself relax against the silk sheets that still refused to grip to his body. They were uncomfortable, but tolerable in Astrid's presence.

"So love, then hit Luke, then bathe and then-"

"Just keep going."

Astrid held firm to him, content in their current position and anticipatory as to what other positions lay ahead for the evening. Hiccup exhaled, letting his head fall into his pillow and mentally preparing himself for what lay ahead both in the immediate and distant future.

_Just keep going_.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello peoples!<strong>

**Sorry again for the delay here, but alas finals do exist. I'll be on winter break now so chapters should be flowing at a bit of faster pace.**

**Hope this chapter was up to your expectations. Wanted to go for a much of a balance of drama, action and humor as possible, all the while trying to absorb all the majesty of Constantinople as possible in one chapter. Indeed, there may still exist some tension on the issue of Daniel between our travelers. How will this play out in time? You'll just have to keep reading to find out...**

**Hope my Hiccstrid was alright. Had to keep this rated T, so nothing too explicit about their _escapades_. There's an M rated part of this site for a reason, need some good Hiccstrid you can head there. ;)**

**Brace yourself for plenty of angst next chapter as we close in on Antioch. Now's the time to start picking up the pace as we delve into the chaos of holy war. There will be blood!**

**Please review if you have any thoughts and stay tuned for the next exciting installment!**

**Mc out!**


	8. Feud

**_"War is what happens when language fails."-_ Margaret Atwood**

* * *

><p>The dragons, left in open sunlight for two days as the group gathered what supplies and information they could in Constantinople were less than pleased with their riders as the group set off in the middle of the night. As much as they enjoy a good sunbathing, two days of being grounded on a small area without shade proved to test their patience greatly. An ear plate to the face made Hiccup realize that Toothless was none too pleased with being left on the roof of the church, and a small deal of guilt came over him as he realized this.<p>

He and Astrid shared an..._exciting_... time at one of the bath houses in the city, making use of the rest of the city being at Mass to enjoy the atmosphere of the luxurious complex that offered impressively hot and the soothing waters for the lovers to enjoy, reveling in the risk of getting caught. Luke and Guy-horribly hung-over-declined baths, citing that they were what made one ill by opening the pores to infection. A strange custom, but Hiccup and Astrid were quick to overlook this as they enjoyed another day of relaxation, after Astrid had gotten in a good whack at Luke for his behavior the previous day of course.

The two other knights instead went about the markets and churches, trying to gather more information for their leaders quest, as well as what could be gathered about the crusaders. Guy listened with baited breath to one man- a Latin speaking trader from Nicaea-who spoke with great knowledge and detail of what he had seen in the crusader army, which he boasted to now be trying to supply. He gave vivid details of a long and depressing siege that had been committed against his city a year prior, and of a contention he had noted between the Byzantines and Crusaders following the fall of the city. The Greeks occupied it, despite the fact that the Franks had won the battle. Such a fact drew particular ire from Luke, who was growing resentful of the Greeks after becoming intoxicated on what he considered in retrospect to be their woefully revolting alcohol. The trader then went on to speak about another large and bloody battle that had occurred deeper with Asia, where many Turks and Franks had perished at each other's hand. The most that the trader now knew was that the army was laying siege to Antioch, and the situation was growing dire for them.

There was one detail of the trader's story that did especially draw Luke's interest. At both the bloody battle between the two sides and in description of the ongoing siege, the trader made specific reference to a lone individual. Ibrahim. He wouldn't say much, except that this one man seemed to be the work of the devil, fighting alongside the Saracens and by his own rules. While details were vague, it was gathered that the man worked in the shadows, infiltrating the crusader's camp and doing great harm, as well as fighting in battle with the power of the devil. He was, for all intents and purposes equivalent to one in the trader's mind. A shadow of evil that seemed to be plaguing the Franks, all the more cause for Guy to worry.

As the two knights and the trader separated, Luke sensed the fear that was brewing beneath Guy's stone facade. The Irishman understood as well as any other man the need for a warrior to remain stoic and reserved when not on the field of battle, but at the same time he knew Guy's fear to be desperate. To come all this way, to risk everything only to find a son passed on would be by far the most demoralizing thing imaginable for the aging Norman. Luke had hoped he would not have to be present for such an occasion.

Then he had asked Hiccup where they would be going when they met that morning, and all hopes were dashed.

Like all Irishmen, Luke brooded to himself patiently as he and Guy passed the time with small talk while waiting for Hiccup and Astrid to finish bathing...and if they had any sense of propriety about them only bathing. He had grown increasingly demoralized ever since they had learned in Scotland that they were very far away from the Night Fury they were pursuing. He had joined in this endeavor hoping for some good modicum of adventure and perhaps a chance to get to see his native Ireland again. Although he had come to enjoy Guy's company and found him to be a commendable and honorable man, the Gael had no intention of joining him on the holy campaign.

It wasn't for lack of piety. Luke was as much a God fearing and loving man as Daniel had been. It also wasn't cowardice. He had killed too many dragons and men to flinch at the sight of blood or the rush of armed combat. If anything, he still enjoyed the flurry of adrenaline and heightened nerves that an intensive combat practice with Astrid or Eret or Snotlout could give him. He was a warrior at heart, and a pious warrior _should_ want to embark on an endeavor as noble as reclaiming the holy places. It was the man whom Luke was following towards this campaign that instead made his resolve waver.

Over the past year, he had come to know the people of the island of Berk well, and especially Chief-now Sir-Hiccup. It was this knowledge of the man to whom he know pledged fealty that now made him hesitant of nearing a place of war.

Hiccup was a curiosity to O'Gara. The latter, more than a decade in age the superior to the chief had lived a life of trouble, of constant conflict with both dragon and man on an island that never seemed to care much for the notion of peace and harmony-nor did that reality seem likely to change. Upon coming to Berk and after the chaos of O'Neill's action had been put to rest, Luke began to experience what actual peace and accordance between man and beast could look like. While certainly an impressive action, the man who took credit for it left Luke feeling...resentful. Not for the success-he loved Agnes as much as the girl he had named her after-but of the ideals behind such actions.

The first time the differences between Luke and Hiccup had become truly apparent was in early spring, a few days following Hiccup and Astrid's baptism. A few of the younger children had shown up to watch as the Irishman sparred with Eret, who had taken the Celt in as he still lacked a house of his own. Wishing to form a strong bond with the youth of the island and reveling in their innocent company, Luke offered to teach them some of his own sword techniques-adapted over a lifetime dedicated to the art. For a few minutes all went well, and Luke was rather impressed with how well the Viking children were trying to counter his thrusts and swings-even if the Celt still dominated them at every opportunity.

Then Hiccup had shown up and asked what was going on. Eret and Luke casually explained that the Gael was teaching some sword fighting skills to the young Vikings, who were enthralled and entertained by the rough play. Hiccup has simply accepted the fact, and then insisted they not spend too much time on such arts and instead focus on more basic things-housekeeping, food preparation, and bonding with their dragons. Luke hadn't thought much of the encounter that day, but the actions kept repeating in his mind for the better part of a week before he finally decided to analyze them thoroughly, and what he discovered in the passive aggressive remark made O'Gara see Hiccup in a new light.

Here was a man who for the most part spared the same life of anguish and hardship that Luke had endured. A man who had the bragging rights to putting an end to war, a war which had simply been a stalemate between powerful and stubborn Vikings against power and stubborn dragons. For Luke, who had seen more helpless villagers carried away and more townspeople die in uncontrollable blazes than he would have liked, such smugness-regardless of whether or not Hiccup meant to be so- was not welcome.

Here was a man who was so content in the peace that he had created that he was having the youths focus on domestic skills rather than learning how to defend themselves. Here was a man so convinced that peace would last that he was willing to let his island and himself grow soft and complacent in this accord. Here was a man with so much faith in dragons and their own abilities that he was letting his people, whom Luke actually looked up to and admired for their martial prowess and stern way of life abandon such properties as bounty and peace held firm on the island.

And here was a man who-despite exhibiting no signs of martial leadership or any kind of the charismatic personality so necessary in military leaders- was intending to fly into combat like a hero of old. Luke couldn't quite grasp it, the pacifist embracing holy war. Did faith do this to a lot of people; turn them from cowards to Cu Cuhlainn himself? Was Luke not as pious as he believed? No. Luke had no doubts about his faith in Christ, what he lacked faith in was Hiccup. He lacked faith that the weak, peace loving _'dragon conqueror'_ could ever become a true warrior outside of his deepest fantasies. He lacked faith that if they entered this war, Hiccup would find some way to get at least himself, and maybe Astrid, and maybe even Luke himself killed.

That was what Luke feared, far more than any dragon or Saracen blade. He feared dying pointlessly, without honor or dignity because of the uncontrollable ambitions of a single Viking.

And now they were soaring into the fire, diving headfirst into the chaos and perils of war...true war. This wasn't the war Hiccup knew, of infrequent raids and the occasional duel. This was O'Gara's kind of conflict, the kind much more common on the continent and his native Ireland. Down and dirty and loud and bloody masses of men throwing themselves at each other and going right for the throat. No mercy, no time to talk and compliment on parries and thrusts. As a knight in a country that did not yet fully accept such ideals as fitting to the station, Luke had been forced to sink to the level of the locals, abandoning the code of honor he had been brought up with in order to survive when the swords swing and the javelins fly and everyone around you is in a desperate struggle just to get out of the fray alive.

Dragons were one thing. Raids, while a constant menace could be dealt with easily enough if the warriors were united. The problem with Ireland was that it never _wanted_ to be united. It was every chief for himself, and the moment there was a lull in the dragon attacks friends wouldn't hesitate to turn on each other and resort to open battle either to resolve grievances or just to take what they wanted from another clan. It was real, honest war; the very face of man's darkest emotions and desires laid bare by the desperation the dragons had brought upon them. This was the world Luke had known, not the insular little island with tamed and docile dragons that Hiccup so proudly called home.

And now Hiccup wanted to go join the most holy and noble and dangerous of endeavors just because of proximity to the elusive creature they all pursued. And Luke, by virtue of his loyalty to Hiccup was being dragged down into the fray with him. No knight likes to be manipulated. An Irishman does not like to be forced into doing something he does not want to do. An Irish knight will thus fight tooth and nail to resist that which he is being manipulated into.

All Luke needed was an opportunity.

* * *

><p>The smoke was the first thing they saw.<p>

They had been flying across Anatolia for the better part of a week, winding their way through the rugged mountains and plateaus that typified the country. The landscape grew increasingly stark and barren the further into the interior of the country they pushed, arid grasslands and forests sustained by the seas yielding to rocks and desert without signs of immediate life or hospitality save a few wayward villages that clung to a local water source for dear life.

They had begun to avoid all human contact, deeming it too risky to try and find a monastery anywhere in this country ruled by the Saracens; as well as pointless to try talking to villagers considering how far away from any center of French, Norse or Gaelic they were. They instead kept to the mountains, getting right to sleep at nights and flying all day with short breaks to let the dragons rest and to eat.

Luke could feel Agnes beneath him growing fatigued by the day. Hiccup was pushing them hard as they made course for Antioch. Guy was becoming elated, if not downright giddy at the prospect of meeting up with his son, hopeful optimism blocking any and all fears that his beloved child had been felled by a Saracen arrow or blade at some point along the journey, provided disease or an accident or a drunken comrade hadn't done him in before then.  
>Still they pushed on, straining the limits of dragon and man as the crusading army neared. The anticipation was killing them all, and Luke feared that joining the band of holy warriors actually would kill them. But with no real opportunity to bring up his misgivings, he bottled up his contempt and took pleasure in what little private time he could have with Agnes.<p>

Then they saw the smoke.

It was initially just a thin wisp against the azure sky, un-obscured thanks to the lack of clouds that allowed the ever powerful sun to continue cooking them alive as they flew. The sight immediately drew the group's attention, and Hiccup motioned them to inspect it. Thoughts buzzed in each individual's head as to what it could be. Crusaders? Saracens? Just some bandits who had gotten carried away or had built too large a campfire? They were determined to find out as they closed in, prepared for the worst.

And they got it.

The smell of the smoke gave way to the smell of blood and death as they descended onto a small village, tucked away and still sprawling out of a small valley hidden amidst the cragged and life-less plateaus around them. Silence pervaded as they touched down, all dismounting their dragons and quickly covering their noses at the smell. It wasn't any particular smell, just the unmistakable aroma of things burning. Crops, houses, people, all burnt and filling the air with the noxious miasma of death.

"Oh God..." Hiccup muttered as he took in his surroundings. The dragons-though showing great relief at being given a respite from flight seemed to keep close together, as disturbed by their surroundings as their riders. Even Toothless, ever stalwart and unwavering seemed to lower himself in concern at the tragedy that was laid out before them.

"What happened here?" Astrid asked, stepping forward to inspect a man who seemed to be missing most of an arm.

"Saracens undoubtedly." Guy was quick to try and make sense of the carnage, tone bristling with bellicosity towards the enemy he so desired to fight. Each rider spread out to further inspect the destruction of the village, keeping quiet amidst the hallowedness of such a harsh and unforgiving scene.

"But why would they do this?" Hiccup asked, coming out from a small hut with a pained expression. The bodies of those he had found inside showed no signs of bodily injury, yet were cold from the grip of death, likely dying of smoke inhalation.

"They have no mercy and no concern for what is right." Guy nearly spat out his contempt for his perceived violators as he shook his eyes away from a young man who appeared to have burns on one half of his body. The knight thought it was strange on how the man could be injured in such a way considering how he believed the Turks would have attacked, but passed off such details in the midst of his rage.

"But...these are just ordinary people. There's no reason to kill them."

"There's still gold to be found here as well." Hiccup spoke up from inside another hut. "If they were intending to raid this place in search of wealth they certainly did a poor job of finding it."

"Oui, but Saracens care not for gold. They care only for performing the devil's work and bringing chaos and disorder into this world. The line between soldier and civilian means nothing to them." Guy was defiant in his hatred for an enemy he did not know as he, Hiccup and Astrid joined back with their dragons, which were sniffing at the air and finding it-for more reasons than their riders could ascertain-unpleasant to say the least.

"I can't believe this." Astrid folded her arms and held her back, awestruck by the merciless carnage. "No wonder so many set off on the crusade."

"Yes...but with God's favor we shall overcome them and take vengeance for atrocities such as this."

"It would be a vengeance poorly misplaced lad." Luke spoke up as he came to rejoin the other three. "It wasn't any Saracen that did this. Dragon raid, by the looks of it probably happened last night." The Irishman was calm and collected in his assertion, wiping his hands and taking in the surroundings with confidence in his conclusion. It was a confidence Hiccup was quick to doubt.

"How can you guess that?"

Luke smiled with the smallest glint of sadism, relishing in being able to explain his method of deduction honed over a lifetime in the midst of similar situations.

"Firstly, as you said whatever gold or other precious things were in the village are untouched. No soldier no matter how hateful of vanity would resist something like this..." He held up a necklace in his hand, a large and magnificent amethyst drooping like a purple teardrop from the small gold chain. Astrid winced at thinking he had probably picked it up off some dead woman, but was somewhat relieved when he simply threw the trinket to the ground without care. No army could perhaps resist vanity and wealth, but a single Irishman it appeared could.

"Secondly, notice how despite all the death that surrounds us, no livestock. If raiders came through here they would either slaughter the livestock in order to prevent an enemy from getting it or -especially if they were cavalry-they would have herded it away. But if they were going to herd the livestock away, surely they would have had enough sense about them to take the gold as well."

Hiccup began to grimace at the points Luke was bringing together, painting a conclusion that disturbed him greatly.

"Thirdly, the fire that was set here is not with the consistency of a raid by soldiers. If so, every hut would have been torched. Instead, only some areas of the village were set ablaze, and only some of the inhabitants seem to have died from fire."

Guy widened his eyes, seeing where the Celt was coming from in his accusation and scolding himself-as equally familiar with the marks of a dragon raid-missing such details in the midst of his hatred for the Infidel.

"Which leads me to my final point. Notice the way in which the dead are...well...dead. The wounds inflicted are either irregular burns which no person would likely have suffered from a burning hut, or gash wounds that are noticeably wider and coarser than a sword strike, or in the case of that guy-Luke pointed to a man near where they had landed who seemed to have had an arm torn off-they're missing limbs that would not usually be removed in the midst of raid type of fight."

A pause in conversation came over the group as the three who had been listening to Luke kept their eyes away from the Gael, each other, and the dragons that remained on edge in the midst of such slaughter.

"Oh and what have we here?" Luke moved over towards the side of a hut beyond the sight of the other three. He bent over a moment and turned back to his comrades, holding up a sharp, oval object.

"Huh, Nadder scale. Just the one though. Probably was loose and came off when the thing was thrashing about here." To Luke's left, within sight of the other three lay the body of a girl. She was young, no older than seven, with three wide gashes across her small chest that were stained with the deep purple of coagulated blood. Her eyes looked towards the sky, glazed over and grey and unmoving. Black hair, shining with oil until the ends of it became caught in the hardened blood of her chest draped over the rest of her face.

"If I had to guess she was probably trying to help one of the villagers, probably our armless friend over there and got whacked out of the way by whatever dragon he was fighting. She got the claws and he got the teeth, classic combination. Probably a father and daughter too. Sad."  
>Luke brushed down the girl's eyelids and wiped his hands again before standing up, turning to the others while looking around the village. He brought a hand up to his chin and rubbed his stubble as he continued speaking without much visible concern for the saddening sight around him.<p>

"Yeah they probably came from the surrounding mountains late last night or early this morning. If they're anything like how they are back in Ireland they would have divided into groups, coming in from all directions and going to set the place ablaze. That would get the livestock running and they could then swoop them up in the chaos."

"Shut up." Hiccup quietly muttered beneath his breath. Astrid only barely caught it, and knew Luke wouldn't have heard such as request. She was right, and O'Gara went on speaking with neither notice nor concern for Hiccup's increasingly distraught expression.

"Whoever was stupid to try a defense was in for a losing fight to begin with. This entire location is indefensible, both from dragons and man. Poor bastards should have just run instead of putting up a fight."

"Shut up." Hiccup growled again, a little louder but still not enough to draw Luke's attention. Astrid was hoping her husband's concerned expression would be enough, but Luke continued on in his forensic dissertation without relent.

"Besides, too small a village anyway. This looks like a substantial raid, and there don't seem to be enough people of fighting age or strength left from what I can gather. Even if they did, I doubt they would have lasted long afterwards. Raids this tough would easily whittle away their numbers faster than they could repopula-

"Shut up!" Hiccup finally managed enough force in his voice to quell Luke, startling the Irishman for a moment with the forceful tone. Even the dragons turned in surprise to the sudden outburst, Toothless curious as to why his friend had become so upset with the Irishman. Toothless liked Luke, and he couldn't understand what he had done to warrant Hiccup's anger.

"Just...stop." Hiccup raised half an arm at Luke while he looked to the ground, shaking his head at a whirlwind of unpleasant thoughts that the Gael had dredged up. O'Gara was quick to catch on to Hiccup's frustration and decided to start seeking some information, knowing full well what was troubling Hiccup and relishing in it.

"What? Something wrong Hiccup?" Luke began to laugh; confident he held the high ground in the conversation. "Surely..._this_...doesn't disturb you? Was this not what it was like on Berk before _'the dragon conqueror'_ came along?" Luke broke into a sardonic grin which only served to incite Hiccup even more. Astrid could sense something brewing between the two and watched them carefully for the moment.

_Oh this can't be good..._

"Well...yes. Yes it does." Hiccup tried to be stern and assertive, all while fighting a nagging sense at the back of his mind that he was being pulled into a verbal trap. "I mean, how can you just casually walk around all this like it's no big deal? I mean this horrible, are you that calloused?"

"Calloused? Ha! I am merely a man who has seen more than his share of dragon raids to know one when I see one. Are you already so removed from what your life was like nigh seven years ago that you've forgotten what a raid looks like?"

Luke stepped forward, confident and assured. Hiccup shirked his gaze away, not wanting to think about Luke's statement for fear that he might be right.

"Or is that it pains you to be reminded of what our friends are capable of? Is it the fact that it was _dragons_ most certainly did this: destroyed this village and killed all these people that upsets you?" Hiccup was quick to pick up on Luke's emphatic word and rallied a response in hopes of gaining some headway in what was rapidly becoming a debate.

"Why does it matter whether or not it was dragons? This is horrible regardless! It doesn't matter if it was dragons that did this!"

Luke kept up a grin as he meandered a few paces forward. "Oh...no I believe it does. I believe that you can't stand the sight of dragons doing what they are capable of."

"No!" Hiccup spat back, rage building within him to the point that it was becoming visible. "Dragons would NOT do this. Dragons are docile, lovable creatures that-"

"Oh like the one we're pursuing?" Luke cut Hiccup of, smiling as he knew he had just lured his chief into another verbal snare. "Have you already forgotten about what Antonius and the monks and Erland have told us about this Night Fury? Have you chosen to just conveniently forget about all the destruction it is said to be causing, about all of the lives it is supposed to have taken?" Luke pinned Hiccup where he stood with a glare, jubilant in having such a cunning tongue. "Or does that not fit in with _'the dragon conqueror's' _idea of what dragons can be; angels sent from on high who only want to be friends and play and fly?"

Hiccup winced at the accusation, and he knew Astrid and Guy could both see it. He decided he had to up the stakes, to go on the counter offensive against Luke's smug and determined argument. He gathered his confidence and turned to his side as he began to strike back with harsher language.

"I suppose it's just difficult for someone like _you_ to understand. I guess if you spend your entire life killing dragons you just can't fully embrace them the way others can."

"Oh now don't go playing the innocent act on me Haddock! I love Agnes as much as you do your precious Night Fury for whom we've flown halfway across the world! If I'm not a true believer in dragons than neither is half your village considering the amount of blood that's on their hands!"

Luke was quick and harsh in his rebuttal and followed it up with a fresh attack, reveling in the fact that the proverbial gauntlets were coming off.

"Dragons are no different than you or I or any man. I was once a killer of them, and now I am at peace with them. Did you not nearly kill Toothless when you first met, so prevalent was the hatred between you and dragon kind?" Hiccup took a step back at the sharp attack, giving a passing glance to Toothless who watched the oral confrontation with curious eyes. Granted Hiccup had attempted to kill him, but that didn't mean he had hated dragons then. Didn't it?

"But NO! No you live in this false world where every dragon is this perfect little Night Fury of yours, where there can be everlasting peace between us both! Wake up you fool! Not every man nor is every dragon intrinsically good...as our surroundings so adequately demonstrate for us."

Luke took a moment to breath and gather his next thoughts. Hiccup was left without counter, his soul laid bare by the Celt who seemed to be relying on a reservoir of stored up frustration. Astrid and Guy remained quiet, marveling in the argument that had popped up seemingly out of nowhere. Toothless and Agnes looked to each other, even more curious as to why their riders were yelling at each other. Toothless respected Agnes' energy and intense loyalty to her rider, and the Timberjack of course held infinite allegiance to the Alpha. Neither dragon could then fathom why Hiccup and Luke were yelling at each other. Had the dragons done something wrong?

"And now...haha...now you want to join up with our Norman friend and take part in _war_? You, who can't stand the sight of the aftermath of battle, want to actually _participate_ in it? The boy who wouldn't kill a dragon all of a sudden feels himself up to the task to going toe to toe with Saracen soldiers? You? Ha!"

Guy stepped forward before Hiccup could even manage a response. His pride was becoming wounded; Luke was as fit a warrior of the word as he was the sword.

"Nobody HAS to come and fight with me mon ami. I am only here to join myself. You have no obligation to join us."

"Well according to HIM I do! No apparently he got so riled up by the Varangians that now he wants to go and prove himself a man! A man who can barely lift a real sword, can't throw a punch to save his life. A man who can't even..." Luke had gestured his hand to Astrid before stopping himself at the last phrase. There exists an unwritten code between all men on when and how to insult in a debate, and despite the increasing severity of the competition of words even Luke knew an attack on virility would be uncalled for at such a time.

Plus Astrid would probably castrate him for it, which he was rather sure he wouldn't enjoy AT ALL. He could already see the way she glared at him for almost saying what his hand implied, and if looks could kill it would have meant an especially gruesome death for the Celt.

"Well then leave! If you're not man enough to join us then you have Agnes, head back to Berk! Maybe work up the courage...and manliness...to marry Ruffnut at last!" Hiccup spat back at Luke with a newfound vigor and anger. He had let his strength go insulted without repercussion too much in his youth to let it happen again now that he was a man of some respect. He was not going to let his manliness-or his manhood-be insulted by a man who was supposed to serve him, especially one who had the option to weasel out of that which he complained about.

"Oh so suddenly I'M the coward!? Just because I have sense enough to see that you're not cut out for campaign all of a sudden makes ME less a man is that it? Well then you heard it yourself people! I, Luke O'Gara, slayer of man and beast alike am but a cowardly old woman when compared to the _great 'dragon conqueror'_ Hiccup! Ha!"

Luke broke down into a condescending laughter, his pride taking over the conversation as Hiccup absorbed yet another attack on his own. O'Gara drew closer by a few paces before continuing his dissent.

"You think I'm trying to stop this because of myself? I would love to have the chance to serve God in such a way! The reason I worry is because of you..." Luke trailed off as he righted himself and tried to look more dignified. "I'm trying to save your life lad. I'm trying to stop you from getting yourself and Astrid killed because you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"Oh and what makes you so sure of that?" Hiccup stepped forward, forbidding Astrid to speak the moment she opened her mouth to defend herself-believing she was more than capable of protecting Hiccup. Her husband's pride however seemed to control him more than reason or compassion, and she let the two men continue their battle of wills and machismo.

"You don't think I can be a warrior? Don't think I can keep my head on my shoulders...literally and figuratively? I can be just as much a warrior as you and you know it!"

Luke scoffed a moment before taking a few more paces towards Hiccup. The chief had expected to only get into a staring match with the Gael of slightly lesser height than his own. Instead, he found himself being gripped at the shoulders and pushed into the wall of a nearby hut, a set of Irish teeth growling at him with an accent think with insult and rage.

"Listen here you insolent little dreamer! YOU haven't had to be in real battle a day in your life! YOU haven't had to look into the eyes of the man you just ran through with a sword and see the life drain from his eyes! YOU haven't had to see the faces of every being you've killed spinning in your head at night as you go through the same duels time after time."

Luke took a deep, staggered breath. His own wrath seemed to be dragging up some visibly unpleasant memories for him.

"YOU'VE never had to wander around your entire country to find nothing but death and chaos and live with that reality every day of your wretched life! YOU'VE never had to walk across a field of dead and dying looking for your friends only to find their head in one place and body in another! YOU'VE never had to look in a mirror and wipe another man's blood off your face!"

Luke tightened the grip on Hiccup's shoulders and brought his face with two inches distance of the chief.

"And I know YOU'VE never had to deal with having to be in the thick of it when the dragons come for YOU and want nothing else but blood and plunder! You've never had to experience what it's like when everything around you is burning and women and children are screaming as their homes come crashing down around them in a fireball and it's you and your sword against the goddamn world and you don't think you're going to make it out alive that time. But you do! You get out alive and then you have to sort through the rubble looking for the people you love only to find them long dead or taken away to be devoured and you have to go every day after that just waiting for yourself to slip up so you can just die and join the lucky ones!"

Luke took another deep breath, both for lack of air and in a need to calm his nerves as a swarm of dark, mostly repressed memories came rushing back to him. He decided he needed to keep the focus off of himself and keep his focus on the idealist within his palms.

"YOU'VE never had to watch a dragon take away everything you ever cared about without the slightest bit of remorse or care..."

Outside the fray, Astrid picked up on the soft growl, her eyes widening at the mess Luke was walking himself into. He had only been told the same lie as the rest of the village-that Stoick had died in battle with Drago. He didn't know what had actually happened and what Hiccup had gone through because of it, and she felt O'Gara was going to say something he would definitely regret.

"...and until that happens...YOU do not get to lecture ME on the nature of combat _or_ dragons!" Luke was almost shouting at Hiccup by this point, beginning to draw Toothless' ire as the dragon observed his master and friend being pushed around by the tall man who dressed in black. Astrid extended a hand or the dragon to calm himself, which he reluctantly did if only out of respect for his friend's mate. Both looked on as Luke kept close to Hiccup, continuing in his outpouring of bitter emotion.

"Mmh. And you, the man who's never killed a thing in his life wants to go storming off to war? Just like that? You'd die even faster than your father...and it would be far less meaning-"

"You son of a BITCH!" Luke keeled forward as Hiccup struck at the front of O'Gara's leg with his prosthesis. With the Irishman's grip loosed by the blow, Hiccup was quick to go on the offensive, pushing the Irishman away and managing to clock him across the jaw. Luke fell back but was quick to get back on his feet as Hiccup lunged at him. He deflected the incoming jab easily before throwing Hiccup to the ground, not wishing to get into a physical confrontation but more than willing to defend himself if necessary.

"YOU don't talk about my father!" Hiccup was quickly back on his feet and throwing jab after jab at Luke, who kept his arms up and absorbed each one with increasing irritation and soreness. Hiccup was slightly stronger since he had last sparred with him; or perhaps that was simply the adrenaline pumping though his wrathful veins?

Luke finally decided playing defense wasn't going to get him anywhere, and in one of the brief seconds between Hiccups' attempts at throwing a punch he managed a single effective strike against his chief's face, sending him reeling back under the strength of the blow.

Toothless and Agnes kept a skeptical view on each other and their friends began seeming to hurt each other. Did this mean they could no longer be friends? Toothless did like Agnes, it would be regrettable if they would have to part because of a feud on the part of their masters. Astrid and Guy remained still for the moment, awestruck at the sight. It was one thing to see Hiccup and Luke argue, that wasn't too rare an occurrence. To see them fight- _seriously fight-_ was something truly remarkable. Astrid wanted to step in immediately to come to her husband's aid, but an extended hand from Guy stopped her.

"No, let them settle this themselves."

"But-"

"Only intervene if things get out of hand. They need this, both of them."

As much as Astrid would like nothing more to get into the fray and give her own special blow to Luke, her reasonable side had to concede the logic in Guy's point. She knew Hiccup still had some issues to work through regarding his father, and Luke certainly had his own bloody past about him. She resolved to let the two bitter men duke it out for the moment, each grunt and punch another ounce of stored up anger hopefully being released.

Luke had gone on the defensive again, finding that Hiccup's strikes, while growing weaker were so erratic that he couldn't find an opportunity to effectively strike back.

"You have no! right! to! talk! about! my! father's! death!" Hiccup continued his assault as small tears formed at the corners of his eyes, his mind head becoming light on the rush of adrenaline and pain relieving endorphins that were flooding through him. Luke continued to absorb each blow, launching the occasional quick jab to try and get Hiccup off his game and relieve the barrage against the shield he had formed with his arms. He really didn't know what he had said to bring out this kind of Hiccup. Yes the death of a father is rough, but had it really affected Hiccup this badly? Was there something to this that O'Gara was missing?

"You think just because you're some vagabond who's had to kill for a living you're the only one who knows what it's like to lose something?!" Hiccup found himself dodging back at a long swing from Luke's fist as the Gael came on the offensive. O'Gara came forward and feigned a jab at Hiccup's abdomen before going for a powerful uppercut that managed to knock the chief backwards.

"Oh yes because the great Hiccup is the only one in this world who has suffered! He alone truly understands what it's like to have war take EVERYTHING from you!" Luke didn't allow Hiccup to get back up, and descended on the chief in a state of blood lust, both men's minds flung into the whirlwind of chaos and misery that memories of loss and the vigor of combat give oneself.

"You...are...not...a...soldier!" Luke and Hiccup locked arms, one trying to pin the other to the ground, the other trying to throw off the attacker. "And until you can stare down another man and take his life you never will be!"

"Then why not start now?!" Hiccup abandoned his attempt to wrestle O'Gara off and instead quickly made for the knife hilt on his arm. Before Luke could counter he had swung it up at the Irishman's face, managing to knick his lower jaw and driving him off and away. Luke was quick to draw his own knife, ignoring the gash on his face that shone a deep red and lunging forward with a growling voice.

"Oh why not? I need a twenty-fifth!" The two collided and collapsed to the ground again. Luke had displayed no mercy, abandoning any sense of loyalty and falling into the manic state that overcomes the sensible mind during battle. He went right for the throat, and only avoided killing Hiccup by virtue of a lucky parry that held the blade just an inch away from his jugular. The two held in such a pattern for a moment before Luke-still holding his blade close to Hiccup's throat with one hand- raised his other arm into the air in an effort to deliver another blow to the face.

His arm was instead caught and began to be dragged back, straining his shoulder as he was pulled off Hiccup by a none-too-happy Astrid. She delivered a single strike to Luke's temple before kicking him down opposite Hiccup. She slammed a foot on his abdomen that if any lower would have lived up to Luke's fear of her castrating him. Hiccup tried to get up to finish what he started, only to find a sword but inches away from his face, held sternly in place by Guy's hand as the Norman looked to Astrid for leadership.

"Enough! Both of you!" She yelled at the very apex of her voice's strength as Luke writhed and curled up on the ground in pain a moment. A moment passed as Astrid's voice was carried off by the winds and the two previous combatants composed themselves. Guy lowered his sword on Hiccup's assurance that he was calming down, and helped his cousin up as Hiccup dusted off his armor and sheathed his knife, panting heavily and wondering just how close he had actually just come to dying. Luke took a little longer to recover from Astrid's fell placed blows, and stumbled upwards as he wiped away the blood that was dripping from his jaw on the sleeve of his cloak, the dark red fading in well with the rich black.

"Is this what you two have reduced yourselves to? Trying to show who the real soldier is by killing each other?" Astrid's voice was stern and carried with it a growl of irritation that her both her husband and a usually respectable huscarl had subjected themselves to such a complete breakdown of discipline.

"This is not how knights are supposed to act towards one another." Guy added, deciding it best for Astrid to do most of the talking. He also expected his own little confrontation later for making Astrid wait until such a drastic time to intervene, but that would come later, and currently the present was all that mattered.

"Oh come on you heard what he said Astrid! Are you just going to let him-"

"Hiccup? Shut up!" Astrid showed no remorse in being tough with her husband. She could be the sweetheart when she wanted, but it was a fool who dared think that Astrid Hofferson Haddock could not command respect and fear when she wanted.

"Alright, here's how we are going to do this." She turned first to Luke, who viewed Astrid with a pained and weary glower, finally coming down from his high of raw emotion.

"Luke, we are joining up with Guy's son and the rest of the Crusaders whether you like it or not!" She looked back to Hiccup, who thought that his wife was taking his side. He was quickly disappointed. "And you, SIR Hiccup, are going to listen to ME, and Guy, and Luke when it comes to what we do on campaign! Got it?"

Hiccup looked his wife up and down a moment, refusing to believe what he was hearing. That his wife actually seemed to be half agreeing with Luke. He was even more disappointed when she fully agreed with him.

"But Astrid-"

"No! Hiccup...he's right. You are not a soldier." Hiccup's jaw fell in dejection as Astrid took a few steps towards Luke. "Especially if you can't even defeat Luke..." She was quick to attempt to trip the Gael, which threw him off his guard before she elbowed his chest and pushed him to the ground again. "...by yourself."

Luke grumbled to himself as fresh dirt and dust came in contact with his jaw wound. There was some degree of shame to be had in being bested by a Viking woman, but O'Gara could swallow his pride for the moment and opted to remain prone, none too interested in getting hit again when the strain of his entire past fight was beginning to be felt.

"That is why-Astrid looked down to Luke, grinning in how clever she could be when it came to inflicting some degree of pain on men-Luke is going to teach you how to fight. Like a _real _knight would in _real _combat, considering how much he seems to enjoy it." She started to smile with a sardonic joy at the last words, drawing a near sadistic pleasure at how Luke continued to moan on the ground both from his injuries and her recent words, as much a request as a demand.

"Understood?"

"But, but Astrid he-"

"Hiccup...stop it. Yeah I know he can be an asshole...but he's got a point." She walked back towards her husband who regarded her with pleading eyes and a worried expression. She took one of his hands in her own, putting on a face of sympathy before twisting his hand back and bringing him down to the ground with as much ease as she had expected. "If you're going to be a knight..._my knight_...you've got to learn how to be a proper one, who can actually stand up for himself and who doesn't take crap from Irish bastards."

She stepped away from her husband, who Guy again helped back up to his feet-well, foot. Luke had by this point finally dragged himself back upright, keeping a distraught eye on Astrid.

"What do you say O'Gara? If my husband is so lacking in combat experience, why don't you teach him? Make him able to stare down another man and take his life as you poetically put it?" She looked the Irishman dead in the eyes, daring him to refuse her, which so far in her life no man had ever been able to do.

"And what happens if I say no?" Luke actually figured it was worth a shot, even if it was likely doomed to fail. And indeed it was.

"Because-Astrid drew close to Luke, lowering her voice to a strong whisper that still carried strongly considering the force in her voice.-If you don't agree, I'll castrate you right here, right now for what you almost said about my husband's manhood. Deal?" Luke's eyes expanded and a small shiver ran down his abdomen to his own manhood, which much like his brain less than excited about the threat it was given.

"A sound offer my friend, I would accept it." Guy managed to get Luke's attention from over Astrid's shoulder and offered his advice. All men tend to sympathize with another when the very essence of manliness is at stake, and nowhere is this stronger than between those dedicated to the martial arts.

"Agreed." Luke nodded towards Guy before turning back to Astrid, who knew the Gael was quickly buckling under the threat. He nodded towards her as well and spoke with broken breath. "Agreed."

"Perfect." Astrid popped into an oddly cheerful mood as she walked away from Luke, who nearly collapsed at having been so close to being so horribly mangled by a woman he knew would have lived up to her threat without mercy. "Well then boys if the dick measuring contest is over with can we get going? I don't think the dragons exactly like it here and I want to get as much flying done as we can before night falls." She turned and walked back to the dragons, who beheld the sight before them with bewilderment. All of their riders had just gone about the process of hurting themselves, and Agnes was rather distraught that her friend was bleeding. Still, the female and mate of the Alpha rider seemed happy and content, so it couldn't have been that big of a deal could it?

Luke began to stagger forward after her as Guy quickly sheathed his sword and followed Astrid, giving Cindre a pat on the nose and whispering to her that everything was alright. Hiccup stood where he was, trying to collect his thought a moment and decide on whether or not having Luke teach him the ways of knighthood would really be that great of a time? Then again, he had survived dragon training, so hard could a few lessons in swordsmanship really be? He began to walk towards Toothless, who was cautious at the figure of Luke approaching Hiccup from behind. A small growl was enough to make Hiccup turn and address the Irishman, who stopped at Toothless' malevolent look and the overarching presence of Hiccup's head.

The two kept an uneasy gaze at each other a moment, trying to surmise whether or not the other actually would have gone through with it when the knives had been drawn. As each one's heart rate finally returned to normal after a few momentous minutes of physical and mental anguish, there came an uneasy respect between the two. Feeling an oncoming wave of guilt at having started this whole confrontation, Luke decided to demonstrate himself the better knight and extended a hand of reconciliation.

"I can be a really lousy teacher."

"I can be a really lousy student." Hiccup took the hand and, though his face did not change, it signaled the beginning of a tense if new understanding between the two.

"From your kind, I expect it." Luke's humor-while crass-was enough to drag an inkling of a smile out of Hiccup, who squeezed the Gael's hand firmer as he resolved to start building new bridges with his newfound instructor.

"It runs in the family. Speaking of which...I think you need to hear a certain story about my father. Later, when we make camp."

"Sounds good to me." Luke knew that he had certainly said something in his argument that had warranted Hiccup snapping so ferociously, and he began to ascertain that Hiccup's insistence on talking about his father might have something to do with it.

The two broke apart and made towards their dragons, equally eager to see their riders reconciling to some degree and to be leaving this place. All were soon soaring into the Turkish sky, leaving behind one place of death and pain and searching for another that all were now determined to reach. The call to arms had finally been heard by all corners of Christendom, and the supposed spawns of the Satan himself were now being ridden into what many considered to be the devil's domain.

War.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello peoples!<strong>

**Just decided to push through and get this chapter done as fast as possible, and I think it came out pretty well. I really wanted to use this as an opportunity to have get some more insight into Luke's character, as well to look at Hiccup's own faults which, considering how different a personality he has from Luke would be a serious cause of contention in a situation like this.**

**Next chapter is going to be a long one, so I might not be able to get it up before Christmas. I'll try though, rest assured I'll try. I want to get at least four or five chapter up before winter break is over, so with any luck we're looking at about a chapter a week or so here.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter and if so please do leave a review with your thoughts, critique, analysis, criticisms etc. until next time.**

**Mc out!**


	9. Good Morning Antioch!

There it was.

Expanding rapidly upon the horizon the city of Antioch rose in a beaten down but still impressive majesty. The walls, by far surpassing any kind of fortification Hiccup had ever seen enclosed within a city from which thin wisps of smoke rose into the clear sky. The dry and arid ground below reflected the powerful sunlight that the group had finally gotten used to by this point, finding their skin had been abused to such a point that they no longer felt the pain of sunburn. Outside and surrounding the city was sprawled out a large camp, clearly that of any army designed to do battle. Large banners flew above ornate tents; small flashes of light came from fires around which small groups of soldiers sat, exchanging rotten stories and even more rotten food. Individual specks went about on patrol and sentry duty, more so focusing on the walls before them than the four dragons in the sky, which by virtue of distance appeared no bigger than birds.

"Well then...how should we go about setting down?" Hiccup motioned Toothless close to Cindre as he questioned Guy. It was still a rather difficult issue. It wasn't just everyday that a group of dragons led by a Night Fury swooped down into your camp and tried to make nice. They needed to go about this carefully lest their efforts on this campaign ended before they began.

"Mmh...I suppose we should set down _outside_ the camp and then let them come to us. When they see us dismounted then perhaps we...uh, I...can explain who we are." "Alright, but just do a better job than we did with the Pope please."

"You're not letting me live that down eh?"

"We _may_ or_ may not_ have accidently set fire to the city because of it, so no I'm not."

Hiccup grimaced at remembering the orange color rising from Rome in the horizon on the morning they had left. He continued thinking that it had been the sunrise and nothing else, but the way in which the glow had risen slowly from behind the city walls discouraged him. He could only hope that the fire had been small, and nobody had been hurt because of his reckless actions. Thinking of Rome then brought up the more recent memory of the scuffle with O'Gara two days ago. The two had been back on speaking terms, but there was still uneasiness between the two considering their violent temperament towards each other back at the village. It had certainly put each of their misgivings out in the open to each other, not that anyone was particularly willing to talk about it. Even Astrid had kept mostly shut about it; the few words she had said on the matter were small whispers in Hiccup's ear as the two fell asleep together. It stung Hiccup in the way she had actually agreed with Luke that he wasn't exactly of the soldierly quality of the Gael.

Then again, he had really _always_ known this was true. It just hurt to have it brought back up. And by a man he had only known for a little over a year. At least when Astrid called him out on it, he could handle it with some dignity. She had at least made it known to him since the two could have spoken with each other, and a multitude of bruises in his childhood could certainly confirm what she and the rest of the children had used to say. But that was the past, and he could only look forward to the future, a future that was to be dedicated to a holy campaign in the midst of pursuing the elusive Night Fury. He hadn't expected that this would come of his initial desire to find another of Toothless' kind, but if there was one thing he had learned from adopting his new faith, it was that God did indeed work in mysterious ways. And war was apparently one of those ways.

He felt light headed now that they were actually heading into the fray. He remembered the only other time he would have been near a battle this large, back at the sanctuary with Drago. Those brief minutes flying through the air and the rush of life and adrenaline amidst the skirmish were an awkward memory. When he had been there, saving dragons and stopping Drago's troops from storming the sanctuary, he actually felt rather good. It felt great to be useful, to be performing such a valiant and honorable action was invigorating. When he was in the air, raining down fire from above he felt amazing- invincible-as powerful as the gods he worshipped at the time and as the single one he prayed to now. Then, he actually got on the ground and tried to confront Drago, tried to reason with him and put an end to the fighting he was enjoying. And as a result, his father had died. The battle had started off so well, and had ended in tragedy. He supposed that was the risk of battle. You felt invincible, at the risk of being shown that you weren't.

Luke's criticism's were sticking with him like dried honey. _You are not a soldier_. Yes, Hiccup could concede that maybe he wasn't the most martial in appearance. But he was still a leader, still a man who knew how to adapt. Even if Luke could teach him some things about how to live the life of a soldier, it could only improve what was already there, the young warrior who had actually taken a satisfaction at his first taste of battle and who was craving for more. Craving to lead, craving to show he was a warrior, craving to live up to the legacy of the great warrior that had been his father. Craving to serve his new God and take back the holy places from this mysterious enemy. All he had to do was not die, and Hiccup was sure that he probably could. He shook his head, breaking away from introspection and focusing back on the situation at hand. Regardless of whether or not the Crusaders thought he was a warrior, it was time to meet this group, and hopefully find their acceptance.

"What do you say bud, want to make some new friends?" Hiccup could feel the dragon's muscles relax in the way that implied the dragon _did not_ want to go about meeting violent strangers again, a feat the dragon was quite sick of by this point. A low and annoyed growl confirmed this feeling.

"Oh you big baby." A second growl came from the dragon, bringing a smile to Hiccup's face as he took a shallow breath of the heavy desert air. He turned back to Astrid and Luke who trailed behind, eager to hear their next move.

"We're setting down outside the camp. Brace yourselves and follow me!" The three dived down after Guy who led the way. The camp quickly came into sight. Hiccup was ready to lay eyes on this army that Guy had told them so much about. And as quickly as the camp came into sight, Hiccup began to realize that this did not look like the army Guy had described _at all_. The banners that flew above the camp were all green, and embroidered not with a cross as Hiccup had thought, but with a crescent.

_Odd...never seen that used at mass before..._

The soldiers that were staring at the descending dragons also did not look very European. They were short, and of both dark hair and complexion. Their helmets, armor and clothing appeared nothing like what Hiccup had seen before in France, Italy, or even Greece. It was distinctly foreign, and distinctly unbecoming of people who were supposed to be flowers of chivalry. Regardless of who they were, they were slower than Hiccup expected in retaliating. They were all fixated on Hiccup for some reason pointing to Toothless and talking amongst themselves frantically. One seemed to be pointing to the other dragons and shouting to his comrades who stood attentively with bows and crossbow. A small team near a ballista was equally curious, as though the Night Fury reminded them of something else.

_What, haven't you ever seen a talking fishbone riding the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself before?_

"İbrahim diğer biniciler yok!"

"Eğer bu onu emin değil misiniz?"

"İbrahim değil! Onları vurmaya!"

"Incoming!" The four spun and ducked out of the way of a volley of arrows. Astrid missed the ballista round by only a foot as Stormfly tightened in her wings and managed a tight spin up from the soldiers who were beginning to loose volley after volley of arrows at them.

"Get back in the air!" Luke screamed as he made an audacious sweep low with Agnes, forcing the archers to take cover lest they be vivisected by the dragon's razor sharp wings. The four were quick to ascend back up to a safe distance, dismayed and shocked at the rapid turnaround of the situation.

"What the Hell was _that!?_" Astrid yelled to Hiccup as they moved back into a holding pattern. Below them, the entire camp had suddenly sprung to life, banners flying and men scrambling to get weapons and ready light artillery, looking into the sky and trying to discern the small specks against the blue that they were supposed to be ready to fight.

"Those...do not seem to be the crusaders I'm afraid." Guy brought Cindre close to Astrid and wore a face that was desperate to make sense of the situation at hand. Hiccup looked frantically around himself, trying to make some sense of what had just happened. Whoever those people were at the camp, they certainly didn't seem to resemble the people Guy had described whatsoever. Hiccup looked towards Antioch, now coming below the dragons as they steadied out at a safe flying altitude. Hiccup noticed the flags that waved at the top of some of the pillars lining walls. They were evidently constructed hastily and showed signs of being in more than one melee, but the red crosses that stuck out against the white background caught Hiccup's eye.

_Wait..._

"Guy, are you seeing those banners?" "Yes my friend and I know what you're thinking. Our noble soldiers must have taken the city and have been besieged within by the Turks we just ran into."

"Well then what do we do now?" Astrid asked, obviously rather perturbed at having another unnecessary brush with death. "At least some of them are bound to have seen us near the Turkish camp, they must be on alert by now."

"Exactly. No easy way to go about introducing ourselves now." Hiccup had to agree with Guy that discretion was now lost with them. There was no way to get into the city secretly now. Even if they snuck in under cover of darkness, there was no way the dragons could stay hidden for long in a city crawling with hostile knights. "I guess we'll just have risk a direct greeting. Hope you're ready for some stressful negotiating Guy."

"Oh and I suppose the droves of besieged and close minded crusaders who find us are just going to _love_ hearing about peace and understanding from you two..."

Luke soared above the three others, Agnes' massive wingspan enshrouding the others in a light shadow. "Well do you have any better ideas Luke?" Astrid yelled back up at him, not wanting any of his sass at such a stressful moment.

"I didn't say I did, it's just regrettable that tour only option is so...regrettable."

"There's no denying that." Hiccup conceded as he looked down again at the city, where tiny blips of darkness that were almost certainly people were gathering in groups and looking out towards the sky, no doubt aware of the sudden appearance of dragons in the area. This was going to be rough, no denying that. "Well, I guess we're just going to have to face this head on. We make for that plaza over there. That way if they do decide to attack us we have room to maneuver and get out if necessary. Good luck and follow me!" Hiccup set Toothless down quickly as the other three dragons kept close pursuit. Crusaders, seeing that the dragons were descending on the city began to race with drawn weapons towards the plaza where they saw the Night Fury descending rapidly.

"Furie Nocturne!"

"C'est Ibrahim!"

"Teuz le!" The other three dragons were quick to circle around Hiccup as they landed in the square, composed of beige stone and extending a thousand yards in perimeter. Scores of knights and squires equipped with whatever implement of battle could be found were racing towards the dragons, which each curled up in a defensive position and snarled at the oncoming Franks.

"Arrêtez! Arrêtez! Mes amis Arrêtez!"

Guy, taking advantage of the great size of his Monstrous Nightmare raised himself above the other three with his arms in the air, commanding the attention of the approaching knights. "You three, get on your dragons and put your arms up. We must show them we mean no harm!" The other three complied, Astrid and Luke visibly nervous at being so open to injury. Toothless grumbled as Hiccup unconnected his metal foot and stood without ease on his friend's back.

"Sorry bud...but you know how diplomacy is." The dragon never really understood why his human brother insisted on trying to talk to people who brandished weapons at either of them. It seemed much more reasonable for the dragon to simply unleash a plasma blast on any who threatened them, but apparently humans liked to talk to their enemies for as long as possible before engaging in the actual act of killing. Regardless, the dragon allowed this grievance to his dignity go on, if only because he was confident that he would be able defend his friend no matter the situation.

The surrounding knights began to slow down their advance, watchful but curious at the sight before them. Those at the front gradually came to a halt as they listened to the Frenchman who pleaded with them. Those behind them kept pushing forward for a few moments, but a clamor from the front gradually subdued them. Weapons were lowered, but still held tight enough so that they could be wielded at a moment's notice. Gazes between the knights and the dragon riders were tense and filled with a sense of mystery and awe.

To the knights, the savage beasts that had regularly plagued them appeared to have saddles on their backs, and were subservient to those that had ridden them in. Two of them appeared like proper men of chivalry and warrior station. A third looked most likely to be a squire given his small, thin figure. Then again, he was the one who was riding the Night Fury, and he apparently had been maimed to some degree in order to warrant such an impressive looking fake leg. And the last...was that a woman? Had one of them brought their wife on campaign? How uncivilized!

To Hiccup and Astrid, those men who stared them down were certainly both failing their expectations and exceeding them at every opportunity. Many seemed to be of the reputable martial quality that so typified Luke, while at the same time they seemed malnourished and desperate. Many had dark circles of fatigue under their eyes and appeared unkempt in appearance, certainly a sign of a long campaign rife with rough conditions. Others were younger than others, and seemed to stay closer to the better armored and proper looking soldiers, almost certainly servants to them in some regard. They murmured amongst themselves, mostly in French; though Hiccup could detect some German, English and other more exotic languages in the mix as well.

_"C'est pas Ibrahim."_

_"Je vois une croix sur son cou."_

_"Peut-être qu'ils sont des amis d'Ibrahim?"_

_"Sie sind noch nicht anzugreifen ..."_

_"Nein, aber sind Sie wirklich, ihnen zu vertrauen? Sie könnten nur einige der Ibrahims-Scouts sein."_

_"Aber das ist nicht Ibrahims Drachen. Sehen Sie die rot auf dem Schwanz? Es sieht fake, als ob sie abgerissen und ersetzt."_

Hiccup's breathing was strained amidst the tenseness of the situation. He _really_ hoped Guy knew what he was doing. He also didn't like the way in which the crusaders were judging them. Granted they were suspicious-and Hiccup could concede they had every right to be so-but they appeared also skeptical of the group. As though they had been expecting someone or something else and were now stymied. Hoping to convey some sense of solidarity with the group, Hiccup pulled his cross out from beneath his armor and tunic and held it up for the crusaders to see as the silver shined vibrantly in the noonday sun.

_Yeah that's right, I'm one of you. Were you expecting someone else?_

Guy was going off in French about his meeting up with Hiccup, his change of heart about dragons and the time they had spent traveling to join the crusade. Though Hiccup couldn't understand much French, he could see that whatever Guy was saying was having some degree of effectiveness on the assembled knights. Some were talking to others, translating the Norman's words as Guy continued gesturing between the three other dragon riders. The crusaders still remained skeptical however, unsure of the sight before them.

_"Ils ont des croix, le leader doit être dit la vérité."_

_"Il pourrait être une ruse par Ibrahim, en essayant de nous faire baissons la garde, afin qu'il puisse attaquer."_ From in the back of one of the sections of crusaders there came a flurry of movement as men were harried and shoved away from each other. A path emerged as a single figure pushed his way to the front, drawing all four riders attention.

"...et nous espérons que nous pouvons..." Guy stopped his dialogue as he met eyes with the figure. He was youthful in appearance, no more than thirty. His skin tight and of notable Norman descent. His hair was neither too long nor too short so as to reveal his scalp, and his eyes as blue as the clear azure sky above them. He wore a robe of a similar color that draped over white garments beneath. He held no visible weapon, not even a sword scabbard by his side. He approached the group slowly, leaving the other knights behind him. A few who seemed to be associates of the approaching knight nudged themselves, knowing exactly what was about to go down.

"Fils..." Guy slid down from Cindre, who was attentive to her master's movements as the aging Norman stepped out from the shield against harm the dragons had formed with their bodies. Hiccup, Astrid and Luke stepped down from their dragon's backs, much to the beast's mutual relief. They gathered around each other as they watched Guy approach the brazen knight, who by this point had stopped a few dozen yards away from the dragons and viewed them-and Guy-with disbelief.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"I think so." Guy finished walking towards the knight, who looked the elder down with incredulousness and growing signs of anger. Without missing a footstep, Guy threw himself towards the younger knight, embracing him tightly.

"Charles my son..."

"Yep, it is." Astrid whispered to Hiccup as both the dragon riders and the other knights took in the sight of father and son finally meeting. Guy held his son tighter; almost intent to squeeze the life out of him he was so jubilant. "Oh I thought you might have died." A final quite moment passed before Charles finally started fidgeting in Guy's grasp, quickly pushing the father back and pointing at him with malice.

"Père ce que l'enfer est-ce? Qu'avez-vous fait pour Tu!?" The sudden outburst caught both the riders and the knights across from them off guard. If this was what all thought it to be-a father and son reuniting-the apprehension and anger rising from the younger knight was not the most expected of emotions considering how joyous an occasion it _should_ have been.

"Charles-"

"Après tout, nous sommes passés à travers tu osez porter dragons ici? Tu?" "Charles please...do you not see the possibilities of what we are offering to us all? To our cause?" Guy's voice was becoming desperate as the senior Norman became dissuaded with the lack of compassion and understanding coming from his son. Charles stalled a moment and twisted his back before surprising Hiccup and company by speaking in Norse, albeit thick with a French accent. "What has happened to you father? What? Have these strangers somehow manipulated you into heresy?"

"Charles...no these people have become my friends. That one there with the fake leg, he is our cousin from far North. These people have figured out how to live in accord with the beasts we have hunted for so long and-"

"And you are just abandoning our entire family legacy? For this? And you dare come here now? You dare bring dragons into our midst? After all we have gone through at the hands of IBRAHIM?!" Charles turned back to the knights behind him as he exclaimed the last word, which brought a clamor of agreement and anger from the assembled soldiers.

Hiccup looked between Astrid and Luke, who both indicated with their eyes that they were also picking up on the consistency with which they had heard this one word. Luke had told Hiccup of the vague description they had heard from the Nicene trader. Whoever this person was, he was certainly living up to expectations when it came to the fears of the crusaders. The question then became _why_ this person elicited such fear from the warriors, and why it came up whenever Hiccup and the others were addressed.

_Wait a minute... _

"My son...I know nothing of this man of whom you speak. We only have come here to serve God in this noble undertaking. And these...these dragons will guide us to victory!"

"Oh so suddenly we should ALL forget the evil done to us such devils? We should just ignore the works of malice inflicted upon us by Ibrahim because _you_ have somehow managed to bring such beasts to heel?" Hiccup began contemplating to himself on the implications of Charles' words. This man Ibrahim had certainly scarred the Crusaders, that much was certain. How he had done so deserved some thought. Charles had said malice had been inflicted upon them by this man, and he said so when talking about-

_Oh God..._

"Wait!" The knights and squires all redirected their attention towards Hiccup's nasally outburst, some snickering at the high pitched voice that interrupted the otherwise severe conversation. Hiccup stepped forward, his metal leg drawing the attention of others as it gleamed in the sunlight. Charles raised an eyebrow at the lanky figure that approached, this strange man who rode the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself who had seemed to manipulate his father into the allure of the devil's minions.

"Wait...this man Ibrahim, what has he done to you?" Charles leered his head back in surprise at how this tall man demanded information out of him, as though he had any authority to do so. Still, the younger Norman could concede that perhaps he should elaborate more on the scourge the crusaders had faced for more than a year now. Charles stepped forward and pushed his father aside, making his new lack of respect for the man all the more apparent.

"So this is my alleged _cousin_ eh? No wonder my family left Berk for greener pastures." Charles sneered at Hiccup as he gave him a look down, disregarding the metal leg as more likely the result of disease than a scar of battle. Hiccup pursed his lips and gave an equally deriding look back at the Norman who was close to his own height. _S_

_eriously, what do I have to do to get some respect around here?_

"Well I'd argue that perhaps your ancestors couldn't crack it on Berk, but that's a discussion for another time." Hiccup decided he would have to lead with derision, and hoped Guy would forgive him for the family wide insult later. "Anyways...what is it about this man Ibrahim that's scaring you?"

"Scaring?! Oh this is good! Oh no my snide little _relative_ we are not scared, we are _vengeful_ at the pain we have received at the devil's hands!" Small murmurs of agreement came up from the knights behind Charles as the assembled throngs beheld the fascinating duel before them. It was certainly a welcome distraction considering the hell they had gone through taking the city in recent weeks. "If you want to know what we have gone through every other day, then why don't you ask your dragon eh?" Charles gestured with his hand to Toothless, who growled back at him with more than a slight comprehension for the human ways of insult. Astrid and Luke, who remained back with the dragons and kept a wary eye on the surrounding crusaders both turned to each other in surprise at Charles' words. Hiccup, who turned back a moment to keep Toothless calm quickly put the signs together in his head at what Charles was getting at.

"Wait...you don't mean."

"The entire race of devil's are in union, forget this not. I'm sure once your slave meets its counterpart it will turn on you and fall under Ibrahim's spell just like the one he commands. "You mean he-" "We've been dealing with Satan's familiar for over a year now, and you've got a lot of nerve to dare fly another one here." Hiccup quickly looked back to Astrid with shock, and found his wife wearing the same expression. A third? Another Night Fury? Here? Antioch was certainly revealing a lot more to the group than they had anticipated.

"My son..." Guy moved back in front of Charles, distraught at his son's behavior and attitude and trying to find some area of peace between the three knights now gathered around each other. "... if we are faced then with a Saracen who flies a dragon, would it not make sense to fight him with dragons of our own?" "How dare you!" Charles showed no hesitation at giving his father a slap across the face, shocking Hiccup in his brazenness.

"And abandon our entire family legacy? Commit heresy by collaborating with the beasts who have taken so much from so many of us? Have good men of God work alongside the devil's creations?" A growing clamor came up from the knights behind Charles as the Norman whipped them up into a frenzy of hatred and self riotousness as the Norse speakers translated into various other languages for the others, instilling them with the fervor they all held within their hearts at what Hiccup was coming to understand to be a war that extended across the entire continent.

"They are not the devil's creations! If they were would we, as equally good men of God ride them?" Hiccup decided it as good a time as any to play the faith card. He could certainly wait to explain how he and Astrid had come to be converted, as that would only complicate things further. "What you call good faith is heresy my lanky cousin! It is true what they say, those who stayed behind simply weren't capable of adapting." Charles' comment drew a step forward from Astrid, brimming with enough rage to warrant a few knights taking an uneasy step back. While they may have initially been curious at the out of place woman who was escort to the dragon riders, her stern posture exuded the kind of feminine bellicosity that can make men both lust and fear. And right now, fear was winning out.

"Oh have I upset the woman now have I eh?" Charles cocked his head back in a self confident derision at the blond who was beginning to take a few steps forward. "Oh grandfather told me stories of the Berkian women...les garces." Hiccup may not have known much French, but he had heard Guy swear enough in the language to pick up a few of the words, and he quickly registered the insult made in the foreign tongue.

"Hey!" He got up close to Charles, exhibiting rage and eager to defend his wife's honor. "You don't talk to _my _wife that way understood?!"

Charles leered back at the sudden outburst but showed no fear of the dammed devil rider before him, trusting that both God and physical strength were on his side. "Oh so does Satan's worker still care about the honor of fair maidens eh? I do not have to submit to the will of any blasphemer who wears a cross yet communes with the Devil's familiar." The Norman growled back into Hiccup's face as Astrid drew closer. Her wrathful appearance did nothing to unnerve Charles, who slowly lowered a hand to his side and brushed aside his robe to reveal a sheathed knife.

"My father calls you a knight? Then let's see you act like one then."

"With pleasure." With a surge of uneasy adrenaline bolstering his wavering courage Hiccup reached for the knife on his forearm. Astrid by this point was but a few yards away and intent to join the ensuing fray with a few quick leaps of her feet.

"Assez!" A loud and authoritative voice arose from the back of the crowd of crusaders, who parted quickly and with a fearful respect for the figure that walked amongst them. Charles immediately switched dispositions from aggressive to respectfully obedient as he turned to address the man who approached. Astrid and Hiccup looked towards the direction the loud call had come from. The yell had immediately quelled the Norman in front of him, and both Berkians were curious as to what or who could possibly command such an otherwise assertive knight to heel. A pair of Dutchmen parted to reveal the person who drew such respect from the assembled crusaders. Tall and with a brown hair that was slowly fading to grey, he still commanded the presence of all regardless of station or nationality. Guy, who had beheld the brief contest of words between his son and cousin with contempt, felt a renewed joy at seeing another Norman with whom he thought himself to be on amicable relations with.

"Mon seigneur Robert! Oh c'est merveilleux de te voir!" Guy quickly went over to the man and got to his knees, kissing the hand the new Norman offered to Hiccup's cousin. Guy then got up, straining his aging knees to look presentable for the man to whom he owed fealty.

"Guy of Falaise, what is this situation I see before me." The Duke's voice was dry and neutral as he more so ordered than asked his vassal for information as he strained to make use of the limited Norse he knew. "You have...subdued these beasts?"

"Eh, subdued is as fitting a word as any. I owe it all to my cousin my lord, Sir Hiccup has-" "Hic-cup?"

_Really should think about changing my name...this is getting old..._

"Yes my lord. But do not let his name deceive you; he is heralded as 'the dragon conqueror'! He comes from Berk, the land of my ancestors. He has taught me the ways of how to use dragons, and because they allow us to travel fast we have come here to serve God and you my lord! We have come here to partake in this most noble undertaking, under your guise of course."

Guy bowed before the Duke again, showing no apprehension at being submissive to the stern faced man. Charles kept quiet for the moment, surprised and uneasy at the sudden appearance of his own commander. The Duke looked to the newcomers curiously, not so much hung up on their implications, but on the more pragmatic matters that concern a leader of soldiers. Astrid had come up to Hiccup's side, keeping close to him as they all waited for a response from the newest Norman arrival. She gave a passing glance at Charles, with whom she was less than impressed given the wondrous stories Guy had told them of his alleged pride and joy of a son. The younger Frenchman passed off her contemptuous gaze, as equally unimpressed with the Valkyrie who usually instilled fear in the hearts of most men-including her husband. She took this as a bit of an insult on her character. Had this man seen stronger or more formidable women in his time? Were French maidens even tougher than her? Impossible!

"My good and noble lord commander Robert..." Charles decided to make his own case heard, worried at the lack of outright rage at witnessing the heresy before him. "I would just like to let it be known that I wish not for my family ties to further be considered to you." He turned to look at his father, a detesting scowl wrought upon his face. "I do not wish to be considered in the same blood as such a blasphemer."

Guy could only be described as crest-fallen at the words, sulking his head away and focusing on the quiet Duke, choosing to bottle up the mix of sadness and rage at his son's actions and words. Luke, though still behind with the dragons understood the situation going down, and exchanged awkward looks with the other knights who all beheld the intense play going on before them. The Gael had expected that maybe they would arrive at Antioch to find Charles dead, certainly not alive, and certainly not as reluctant to accept his father's company. Though Luke supposed it was an understandable action considering the circumstances. After all, it wasn't everyday that a bunch of people riding dragons just swooped into your city, especially after you had apparently been fighting another lone dragon rider for the better part of a year.

The Duke remained quiet still as a tenseness overcame the assembled crusaders. It persisted for a minute as the Duke kept looking between the dragon riders, trying to make something of them. After another moment of contemplation, an anxious Charles tried to coax an answer out of the Norman. "My lord if you-" A quickly raised hand was enough to silence Charles as the knight bowed his head in respect. It brought a smile to Hiccup's face to see the previously so boisterous knight silenced so easily, to be stopped with a simple gesture by the commandeering lord.

"You, the one they call..._'Hiccup'_...you are the one who flies the Night Fury yes?"

Hiccup, unsure of how to respond to such an authoritative figure during such a situation decided it sensible to act as respectful as possible, and bowed towards the Duke as he responded. He was sure he was going to hear it from Astrid later about how he should have looked the man in the eye considering and stood tall considering they were both lords of their own domain, but now was not the time for confidence. He could make equals later, for now he needed an ally.

"Yes Duke Robert, I do."

"And you have been told of our situation with the one called Ibrahim?" Hiccup _really_ wished he had more information about this mysterious character, but he supposed that he was technically aware, regardless of how little he knew.

"Yes Duke Robert I have." Robert gave a glance to Astrid, on whom he noticed a broach consisting of three triangles. Looking back to Hiccup, he took notice of the silver cross that now hung outside the man's strange leather armor.

"You are Christian yes?"

"Yes Duke Robert I am, through and through." The Duke paused a moment, considering his options. While granted he was as apprehensive to being near dragons as any self respecting man should be, a commander needs to think about the welfare of his army and how to achieve victory first and foremost. Personal beliefs are always second to the need for victory.

"We sally forth to battle the Saracens tomorrow. You and your comrades will join us in breaking their siege, and should you prove yourselves in battle regardless of whether or not you engage Ibrahim, you will be accepted into my band of soldiers. Tonight you sleep outside the city. Understood?" As equal parts elated and terrified of the future, Hiccup offered a final bow of appreciation.

"Of course Duke Robert."

"Bon. Au revoir et bonne chance Norseman." "But my lord you cannot possibly-"

"Assez!" A more than threatening look from Robert was enough to halt Charles' protests, causing the young Norman to take a few steps back and bow in an effort to continue showing respect. Charles turned back towards Hiccup, Guy and Astrid with loathing in his eyes. The Duke withdrew back into the mob of soldiers where the multilingual were explaining to others about the deal had been struck. A temporary silence befell the knights, before Guy in a last and desperate effort to find some conciliation with his son opened his mouth.

"Charles-"

"Non!" The son turned quickly back to his father, stymied rage at the back of his eyes. "Ne pas oser me parle cavalier diable!" Charles began taking steps away from his father, internally distraught over the recent developments. He gave a last turn back to address both Guy and Hiccup. "You may have lured the Duke into coercing with you, but I know better! I know better than to fall into the devil's trap! I know better than to ally with the beasts we have always fought!" His finger lowered, Charles went to finally rejoin the other Normans that beheld the assembly.

"To Hell with you, _all _of you." The young knight gestured with his hand to his comrades as he entered the crowd, causing the rest to follow him. The crowd began to disperse with him. Hiccup figured that despite having a man of such authority as the Duke give his tenuous blessing to he and his comrades, none of the crusaders seemed too interested in actually meeting them or exploring what the riders had to offer. Perhaps they had to prove themselves in battle first to earn their respect? Was that how it worked with such warriors?

"Well...guess we're...guess we're sleeping somewhere outside the city tonight. We had...better find a place safe from the Saracen camp." Guy muttered forward. The amount of sadness and frustration present in his cousin's voice could have easily brought Hiccup to tears were he in any worse a mood.

"Yep, guess we better take our leave." Astrid's tone was equally morose if only out of sympathy for Guy. The three turned to go back to their dragons, which were gradually relaxing as the crusaders slowly withdrew from the immediate vicinity. Luke raised his arms in the air before letting them fall to his side as he tried to convey a message with movement.

_Well that certainly could have gone WORSE..._

Hiccup ground his lip to acknowledge the knight's sentiment. Toothless bounded forward to greet his friend, curious as to what had happened during the tense standoff. Hiccup gave a light scratch to his friend's head as he moved to mount the saddle. Astrid leaped onto Stormfly's back and Guy went to Cindre, who could sense the misery flowing off her rider.

"Guy, you alright?" Astrid offered some manner of consolation to her husband's cousin as the dragons readied to bound into the air. Guy said nothing and only gave Astrid a shallow nod, the one that is typically used to convey the emotion of _no, but now's not the time to talk about it._

The dragons raced upwards, eager to escape this strange and foreign city filled with strange and foreign people who carried and brandished sharpened steel. Hiccup knew they'd have to find someplace a good ways away and inaccessible by foot since he knew the Turks had already seen them, and would almost certainly be investigating the dragons flying out of the city they were besieging. His heart raced at the prospect of battle tomorrow, and he immediately began to worry if he was prepared. He had to prove himself on the field of battle. He and Toothless against the world for all intents and purposes, going up against an entire Turkish army whose camp was difficult enough to fully glimpse from the air, let alone from the ground.

And now there loomed the specter of this man Ibrahim. Going into battle with men was one thing, but another Night Fury? Hiccup didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that here, a world and faith apart that someone, somehow had possibly trained another. He winced at thinking about how it might have gone down. At how this person had probably subdued the beast with brute force and abused it until it submitted to his will. Not like Hiccup, who had gently trained and befriended Toothless. After he had shot him down. There had been that _one_ violent encounter. Still, Hiccup liked to think himself as a one who had redeemed himself of his previous superstition and hatred. Perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps over appreciating oneself, or perhaps it was the faith based on forgiveness and reconciliation he had adopted, but Hiccup remained skeptical of others who claimed to control dragons. Outside of himself and his mother, he hadn't explicitly trusted anyone who claimed such a title or ability, and so far such an assumption had been proven right at every opportunity. Now though it remained to be seen who this stranger was, and if he deserved the reputation the crusaders had given him. He had certainly been upon their lips, and any mention of his name was guaranteed a reaction out of them regardless of subject. Still, reputation often exceeded ability, as Toothless had so well demonstrated to Hiccup. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself could certainly be threatening, but at the same time all it took was a scratch in the right areas to render it no more hostile than a kitten. Whatever this man and his Night Fury were capable of; he would simply have to see with his own eyes tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow when he would be leading his wife and friends into the thick of battle, _real battle_, the kind Luke had so feverishly warned him about a few days ago. Two armies, two living and breathing entities comprised of thousands of souls going head to head in an epic struggle for dominance. To the winner, glory. To the loser, death. Not the best of trade-offs but considering the circumstances it was the most fair.

No room for error, no room for mistakes or second thoughts. No room for hiccups.

The city began to fade from view as the group began to fly towards the nearby mountains, confident that they weren't seeing any Turkish cavalry pursuing them. Luke swooped in near Hiccup, a smug and mildly joyous expression on his face as he no doubt was also thinking about the impending battle tomorrow and the further glory he would win for himself and his clan name.

"So, guess it's into the fire for you eh lad?"

"Yeah, kind of wishing we had started training a bit earlier now." Hiccup shrugged with half a smile, knowing that the knight must have been laughing on the inside at the suddenness at which they were being compelled to combat.

"No worries lad, I believe on learning on the job." Hiccup sighed and shook his head at the Irishman as they topped over a mountain peak. He was right, into the fire it was.

"No better way to learn than that I suppose."

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><p><strong>Hello Peoples!<strong>

**Please note that I have had some difficulty uploading this chapter, so if you see alerts for it multiple time it is because I have had to upload this several times.**

**Indeed we are now entering the fray! Oh wondrous joy! What shall become of our wayward travelers? And what of this Ibrahim figure? Stay tuned to find out.**

**It's a new year, and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story as it progresses. It's going to be a long road ahead, but with God's grace we'll get through it. I'd like to take this time to thank you all for your support with this story, and hope that such support continues into the future. Happy New Year!**


	10. Salut et Au Revoir

**"I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello!" -The Beatles**

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><p>Charles the Audacious felt very hot today. It was probably because it was at least eighty five degrees out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. That and he was easily wearing fifty pounds of chainmail over woolen clothing. And he was standing out in the open. And he was surrounded by other men who were equally as well armored. And it was noon time. And he was nervous. And he felt very hot.<p>

In a word, he was uncomfortable.

It had been a rather long morning. Getting constantly harassed with Turkish arrows was by no means a great way to start off a battle, though given the amount of time he had spent on campaign he found it commonplace by now. The barrage had gone on for much of the morning after the crusaders had sallied forth from behind the walls of Antioch to break this siege.

His stomach growled fiercely. Combined with the weakness he felt in his legs this only added to his overall sense of misery. Eight months. They had been camped outside of Antioch for eight God-damned months of torturing idleness. Eight months of waiting as supplies dwindled with each passing day. Eight months of staring at those massive walls, just waiting for the opportunity to strike at them. And waiting. And waiting. And starving and waiting.

In desperation during the winter, he had to eat his horse to ward off a dishonorable death by starvation. This siege had cost him his favorite horse, Soleil. But such was the necessary sacrifice to remain alive to do God's work. She was delicious by the way.

Eight months of little food or manner of luxury. Just waiting outside those damn walls and waiting for the Dukes to order the attack. Month after month of little food and little movement. Month after month of waiting as Antioch still held firm. It had only been a few months prior that the crusaders could actually finally encircle the entire city. And then when they finally do take the city a few weeks ago, they find themselves the besieged and the Turks the new besiegers.

He let his long battle axe slip lower in his grip. Across the plain stood the Saracen infantry, tenuously watching the crusaders and vice versa. Just one long morning of marching through arrows to get to this point. To be able to finally do battle with these Infidels and win the favor of God and the Duke. It had cost him his favorite shield as it became peppered with arrow heads, unusable for any kind of combat.

Then of course there had been marching through the fire the Turks had set in the grasslands leading up to their camp. A cheap and dishonorable tactic by dishonorable infidels, but it had nonetheless proved effective at slowing down their advance. Marching in hot sun with fifty pounds of chainmail and wool clothing is hard enough. Doing so through fire makes things even worse.

Charles did not like being hot.

He had lost several other soldiers today by both arrow and flame. They had started off with over two hundred, now reduced to scarcely twenty knight and thirty squires. Fifty men, whittled away by starvation, disease, and occasionally battle. Fifty men beaten down by years on campaign, by years of sacrifice in the hopes of redeeming their souls and finding glory in both this life and the next. Fifty men beaten down by the trials of war, rendered but a shell of the tight-knit band of soldiers that had departed from Normandy in the years prior. Fifty men that were all which remained after eight wretched months of siege.

Charles could see a cloud of dust rapidly approaching from his left. A lone horseman was galloping up and down the line, intent on rallying the crusaders before the final charge. It was coming, the moment of truth and reconciliation. The final moment of battle that he and his men would have to endure in connection with this wretched city.

"Charles?" A call came from his right and prompted the knight to divert his attention.

"Good luck my friend. God's grace." Charles took and shook the extended with his left.

"Aleixandre my friend, good luck as well. God's grace." Charles took a few steps forward and turned to address the rest of his soldiers. Regardless of whatever action they had suffered, the rest of the knights still looked up to their leader when it came to the time of battle. Their loyalty was commendable, and Charles had made a note to himself to write a song about it when all was said and done.

"Sirs and squires, my friends and comrades. Good luck to you all. God's grace!"

"_God's Grace!"_ A soft call of agreement came up from the rest of the group. Charles walked back and took his place at the head of his men. It was getting close now. He could taste the Saracen blood on his lips already. All he needed was the order to advance. All he needed was the order to kill.

"So Charles…" Robert the Wise drew the knight's attention from his opposite side. Freshly knighted just before embarking on campaign, he was certainly the most nervous of them all. Despite having seen the ravages of battle several different times, he was still one to get overly jittery whenever the moment came to leap into combat. His voice trembled as he spoke, a soft and high voice that spoke volumes of the man's youth.

"…think Ibrahim will be here today?"

The very mention of what to the crusaders was considered Satan incarnate drew a scowl from Charles. The fear that arose to varying degrees in all men's heart's before battle suddenly surged through Charles' veins at the mention of the man. He took a deep breath to calm himself, having unsteady nerves was never beneficial when wielding a battle axe and preparing to enter a melee.

He could lucidly remember the first time they had encountered Ibrahim back at Dorylaeum. There were arrows, so many arrows everywhere. The clamor and chaos of battle was enveloping as knights and squires and regular footmen scrambled every which way. Turkish cavalry were dashing through their camp erratically, cutting down crusaders with arrows and sabers. And yet despite the confusion and horror, the Franks were prevailing. The crusaders were driving back the Saracens once their reinforcements had arrived. Victory was theirs.

Then they heard it. A feint but high pitched screech that most had only heard stories about. And like the nightmares that such stories often stemmed from, there came the fire. The furious violet explosions that would incinerate whole knights where they stood, leaving nothing behind but charred flesh stuck to the melted armor that would become their coffins. A black shadow racing across the sky drew their attention as the Turks retreated, giving time for the horses and men to rout and regroup to fight another day.

Since then they all lived in fear of the shadow. Of the nightmare that would strike at all hours of the night. Sometimes it would be the early morning, when no insect made a sound and the birds were still asleep. And then there would be the horrible screech and a tent would burst into flames.

Sometimes the man himself would dismount his demon, raiding their camp on foot. No knight could ever best him, as doing so would require a fair fight. Instead Ibrahim chose stealth and trickery, using his dragon to distract the knights while he prowled the tents, killing sentries and stealing some of what little food there was to go around. And then the shadow would fade back into the knight, almost unseen but always victorious.

He was a demon, a monster. It only took a month after the first appearance that the very name 'Ibrahim' could invoke terror on the face of any knight, including Charles. The Saracens had a secret weapon with them, and despite the victories and the inspiring sermons, the very thought of Ibrahim's raids and the fear that he invoked could always demoralize the crusaders.

"I don't know Robert. We shall have to see." Charles muttered as the lone horseman drew closer.

"Well if he does then we could at least hope that-" A single stare from Charles-coupled with a tightening grip on his battleaxe made Robert relent from finishing the sentence.

His now disavowed father was the _last_ thing Charles wanted to talk about, especially now. He grit his teeth at the thought of yesterday, when an entire world had seemed to crash down around Charles.

His _father_, a master dragon trapper and killer, to whom he had bid a fond and emotional goodbye before departing on campaign had the nerve, the_ audacity_ to dare show up on dragon back? After everything that they had done back in Normandy, a father and son working together to rid the world of Satan's plague, he dared to make peace with and ride the demons? Even after having experienced what the monsters could do, he dared to talk of peace? Cooperation? Blasphemy!

It was all the fault of this _Hiccup_ character. This strange man-who Charles refused to believe bore any relation to him-had somehow manipulated his father into conspiring with the monsters. It was downright heretical. This man claimed to call himself a _Christian?_ Was he totally unaware of how many good, honest men of God had been slain by the beasts? Of the countless people carried off to be devoured? Of the many brave knights felled by the devil rider Ibrahim?

And now he and his father and that damned woman and the stranger in black wanted to fight _using dragons?_ It was insane. No Christian man with any sense of honor would dare relate with Satan's familiar, especially the accursed demon that was the Night Fury. The same monster that had birthed Ibrahim as the rumors went. This was a war to be won by men like Charles, soldiers who had trained their entire lives for an opportunity like this, to go head to head with the Infidel and win honor for themselves and God. It was not a time to commit heresy just because the Saracens had a demon on their side. And if his father couldn't see that, couldn't understand the war that Charles was trying to fight, than what good was he? He wasn't a man of God like Charles was. He was a heretic now.

And Charles would not have a heretic as a father.

Charles shook his head as he looked across the plane again to the Saracens on the other side. Green banners and flags hanging idly on their poles, without even the slightest breeze to move them. It reminded Charles of how he felt, as though he were just some cloth waiting in the hot sun for some gracious gust of air to come along and relieve him. He felt _too_ hot. Still, he had to fight. Men of God fought, and if Charles wanted to continue calling himself such he had to fight regardless of temperature.

The lone horseman approached, finally coming to a stop a few feet away from Charles ad his troops. A thin cloud of dust arose from the horse's feet as it was brought to a standstill from its gallop. One of the Dukes, face hidden by a helmet sat mounted before them atop a chestnut colored horse, visibly malnourished and probably not fit for combat. Still, it was alive and rode, and that appeared to be the only thing necessary for the moment.

In the Duke's hand was carried a long spear, draped in a red banner on which was painted a white cross. Atop it rested an item that immediately brought Charles and his knights to their knees in pious respect.

Charles could still remember the night they had found it; when one of the young monks had begun digging furiously in one of the city's churches, going on about visions of Christ and St. Peter and whipped into a frenzy of righteousness. It had gone on throughout most of the night, endless digging in which Charles had done his fair amount of work, mildly amusing himself at getting as dirty as a child again as holes were dug all around. And then in the early hours, when the dig started to seem hopeless and the already weak knights were lying down from exhaustion the monk started screaming with joy.

Though initially covered in dirt and unimpressive, after a careful cleaning the blade shined as well as freshly polished steel. There came a surge of joy throughout the entire army at the discovery of this fabled spear, this relic of millennia past. This most holy of relics, most revered of antique weapons.

The Holy Lance had reinvigorated them all with a sense of purpose, given them a reason to continue fighting amidst the starvation and siege and the looming specter of Ibrahim.

The Duke lifted the visor on his helmet. Charles found Raymond was one of the more reasonable commanders in this army, but that wasn't saying much considering the petty squabbles and arguments that were so commonplace to the other officers. Charles and his knights rose while bowing in respect to the man. Raymond lifted the banner above his head, turning his horse to the side and addressing the entirety of the nearby soldiers.

"Friends and comrades, fellow soldiers of Christ! I know this has been a long moment to arrive, but now is our time! Saints George, Demetrius and Maurice are with us this day! They march with us because God has willed it! God has willed us to this place today to do battle with these Infidels, who would dare stand before us and hold the Holy Land as their own!"

A clamor rose from some of the knights, their disagreement with what the Duke conveyed only rallying the soldiers more and preparing them for the ensuing combat.

"Remember this now my good men. So long as we hold this Lance with us, we are ordained by God to victory! St. Peter and the Holy Virgin have appeared to many of us, and with such portents we are all but guaranteed victory against the Saracens today! But the only way to ensure this guarantee is by the bravery of all of you. Strike hard and with fervor! Our hardships end today!"

Raymond hoisted the banner up again, the Lance affixed to the top glimmering with divine majesty in the sun.

"God is with us!"

"GOD IS WITH US!"

A single loud declaration came from the attentive soldiers, imbued with pious strength and frenzied for battle. Raymond was quick to ride off, the banner flying in the breeze the horse created as he continued down the battle line. Like a wave, all soldiers in front of whom the banner passed kneeled in respect before rising as they made the sign of the cross and jubilantly proclaimed that God was with them.

This was it. Charles could feel the tension brewing in the air. The Saracens away from him looked visibly intimidated by the sudden display of passion on the part of the crusaders. Charles just wanted to get over there, to spill Saracen blood and live up to his reputation.

A maniacal sound of horns and bagpipes came up from behind the battle line. The signal! Charles brought his axe into a ready position and leaped forward in front of his men. "God wills it my comrades! Forward!"

As a whole bloodthirsty entity the battle line began to march forward, a single line of infantry that kicked up a ferocious cloud of dust in its wake. The ground trembled with their footsteps, in sync with the pounding of cavalry hoofs on the distant flanks. Charles' previously weak legs felt renewed, as though he were an entirely new person as the line progressed towards the Saracens.

The Turkish line also advanced in a far less organized fashion. Charles could see officers bickering among themselves as a motley assortment of soldiers advanced in loose formation. Those with advanced sets of chainmail and solid steel greaves mingled with lowly peasants equipped with no more than their clothes and a knife. A few archers moved up towards the front of the line, attempting to pepper the crusaders with arrows again. This only prompted the crusaders to advance faster, and in turn the Turks began to run and so ensued a mad sprint by both sides. Though he felt as though he were about to feint and his chainmail felt increasingly heavy, Charles began to smile as he ran towards the Turkish mob. This was it! He took his axe in both hands, brought it over his shoulder and screamed as the two masses of men collided.

A wretched excuse of a soldier armed with nothing but a pitchfork was the first to fall before him as Charles cleaved his arm right off, leaving the Turk with nothing but a stump that ejected blood onto his comrades as he fell to the ground. The melee was joined, and Charles reveled in the frantic surge of adrenaline and heightened nerves that this occasion could give oneself.

Another Turk with slightly better armor came at Charles while others fell on the blades of nearby crusaders. The Saracen brandished a flail but used it poorly, accidently swinging it into one of his own comrades. Charles took the opportunity and swung his axe into the Turk's abdomen several times, leaving the Saracen to fall to the ground as he quickly bled out.

"Alex, your right!" Charles screamed to his comrade next to him in just enough time for the knight to parry away a sword strike. The knight proceeded to bash the Turk's face with his shield, disorienting him long enough for the Saracen to lose his head with a single sword swing. The skull fell to the ground quickly, and the body was soon to follow as it collapsed limply.

Charles got back to his own enemies. A few more poorly equipped infantry came at the Norman, each falling one way or another to the knight. One fell by a clean decapitation, another by a few chest blows. Another-and Charles was rather proud of this-suffered an axe wound so forceful that his entire shoulder came undone. He fell to ground with a horrible scream as the life quickly drained from him.

Still they kept coming, and so the fatigue of battle grew stronger in Charles as he quickly worked himself to exhaustion. Despite this, several deflected sword blows made him glad to have worn his chainmail today, even if it was uncomfortable. Better to be safe than dead after all.

He pummeled another Turk in the face with the tip of his axe before coming back down to chop into his side, bringing the Infidel to kneel to the Norman if only in death.

"Charles! Assistance!" The knight turned to see Jacques-another of his soldiers- being heavily assaulted by more heavily armed Turks. It took a few good axe swings and a very lucky dodge of another flail, but Charles was quick to dispatch enough of the attackers for the other knight to take his own advantage, cutting down several more with his long-sword and spilling plenty of Infidel blood across the dry ground.

And yet they still came. Charles had to give credit to the Infidels that they at least fought with as much determination as he did. This was also rather annoying when it came to dispatching them, but what is war without at least _some_ challenge? A large group all wearing chainmail and brandishing scimitars and spears rushed Charles. Accepting the difficult task thrust upon him the Norman lunged forward, landing a precise blow on the neck of one of the Infidels before being pushed back by a slash at his abdomen. While his chainmail stopped any contact with his skin, the blow was still forceful enough to make him take a few steps back to recover.

The four remaining Turks charged him again. Charles tried to bound forward with another attack, but found that a spear wielded by one of them forced him back. The others took advantage of his position and rushed him, tackling him down to the ground. Charles-still having a slight grip on his axe- swept it forward, driving the Saracens back but failing to injure any of them. He tried to stand, but found the one with a spear thrust towards him again, forcing him to roll backwards as the blade dug into the dirt. His axe having slipped from his hand, Charles scrambled for his knife attached to his mail shirt as the Turks closed in. His comrades were too busy with their own battles to pay him assistance, he had pushed too far into the Turkish lines and cut himself off from their help. The Saracens closed in as Charles desperately grasped for the knife hilt only to find it escaping his grasp. The one with the spear pulled back and thrust forward again. Charles' eyes closed, panic set in. This knight of Christ was doomed.

He felt very hot. There was a brightness that pierced through his closed eyelids and shone with a brilliant flash of orange. Then there was pronounced screaming of agony before him. Charles cautiously opened his eyes to see his attackers yelling in horrible pain as their bodies came alight, wafting fire rising off them as their skin quickly turned black. A thick red liquid covered them and burned through their skin, on some areas to the point that charred bone poked out through cauterized flesh.

He looked up to see flying above him four dragons, a high pitched and nasal voice yelling commands in Norse as they flew over. On a yellow Monstrous Nightmare Charles could see his father-no-Sir Guy de Falaise looking down at him with a smile, admitting with a face that he was behind the sudden burst of flames that had saved the younger Norman's life. The knight looked on as the dragons flew over the mass of Turkish line, drawing tentative cheers and worries from both Frank and Saracen as the raced upwards towards the sky to avoid a volley of arrows. Picking up his axe which had miraculously survived the fire, Charles took a moment to stare at the flying beasts before glancing back down at the charred bodies that had gone silent before. Mustering his courage and strength once more he proceed to delicately walk over the Infidel corpses-or what remained of them- and joined the fray again as he mumbled under his breath.

"Merde…"

In the air the four dragon riders were preparing to descend again to the melee below them, braced and ready for the exhilarating dangers of combat.

"Good shooting there Guy!" Astrid yelled congratulation to the Norman who was drawing his long-sword.

"Was not my work but that of mon cheri, oui Cindre?" The Nightmare growled affectionately as Guy lowered his sword to his side, tightening his grip on the handle.

"So I guess we stick with the plan then?" Hiccup yelled over to Guy and Luke-who was also drawing his weapon and admiring it in the sunlight. The Gael had a tendency to become entranced by his own weapon, to the point of disregarding everything else around him as he beheld and worshipped the steel with a sadistic grin. For now though the Celt was still in a ready enough state to receive and give orders, still retaining some sense of order amidst his growing blood lust.

"Of course. Good luck you two, come on my Norman friend let's give these Infidels some steel shall we?!"

Luke and Guy descended as a pair down towards the fray, determined to do battle in the thick of it with their dragons as they said all proper soldiers should. Astrid had wanted to join them, but felt it her obligation to stay in the air with Hiccup as they provided what support they could from above.

The two knights descended towards the melee, quickly drawing the fear of the Turks as Cindre used her fire to clear an area to land. Agnes landed and began to spin around; using her sharp wings to keep the Saracens at bay as Luke dismounted and immediately went after the Infidels with fury. As far as anyone was concerned, for this brief moment in time Luke was Cumhall himself, and the Turks were more than willing to demonstrate the fact that he should be feared by all.

Guy was quick to dispose of a number of Saracens as he and Cindre fought their way through the ongoing melee. The crusaders who drew near were visibly stifled to see the dragon riders from the preceding day fighting alongside them, but were more than willing to accept their assistance as the more and more of the Saracens fell on crusader blades. Guy soon made his way close to where the two battle lines had converged as Cindre parted the Turks away with ease, driving a path through them the side of her wingspan as many of the less disciplined or armored Turks simply backed away, leaving Guy to dispatch the few brave-or foolish-enough to try and engage either the dragon or its rider.

As Guy slashed through the abdomen of another Saracen he found the item he had been looking for. The two knights greeted each other tenuously as they made ready to intercept any Saracen that dared to come their way.

"Sir Guy of Falaise."

"Sir Charles the Audacious."

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I came here to do God's work, is this not it?"

"No you're in the right place; though I can't say you presence is preferable."

Guy grimaced as he hacked down a Turk who had approached him without much of a plan, and as such provided an easy target for the Norman.

"My son you cannot deny that the dragon is doing a wonderful job in assisting us is she not?"

"All sins seem like a good idea at first father."

Charles used his axe to disarm an approaching Saracen before cleaving his unarmored head in two with a single blow.

"It doesn't have to be a sin any longer. We are here to help, and if we are serving God I can no longer see how this is heresy." Guy stepped forward a ways to go after some Turks who were crowded together to provide mutual defense against other crusaders. Charles shook his head as he looked around for other approaching Turks. He took a step towards them and they began to retreat. The Norman took this as a sign of his own strength before he turned to find his father's dragon standing above him and baring teeth at the Infidels. He sighed as the dragon looked down on him, curious. The Norman continued to advance, looking for new opponents and trying to get away from his blasphemous father.

In the air Hiccup and Astrid began strafing runs on the Turkish lines, gliding back and forth and allowing their dragons to unleash their fire upon the Saracens. The crusaders, initially worried at the sudden appearance of a Night Fury soon began to cheer with each explosion unleashed upon the Infidels. With each passing dive the resolve of the Turkish infantry wavered as more and more succumbed to the explosions of the Night Fury and the incinerating fire of the Nadder.

"Astrid! Gas!"

Toothless shot into the air for a moment before rolling over and diving back down. Hiccup drew out his sword, freshly loaded for battle with a Zippleback gas canister. He flew Toothless low over the Turks, unleashing the thick green miasma over them. He pulled back up as his wife descended, allowing Stormfly to ignite the cloud with her own fire and causing a fierce explosion amongst the Saracens, sending some flying in any direction while others simply suffered from burns powerful enough to bring them to the ground long enough for the crusaders to finish them off.

"Haha! There we go!" The husband and wife, united in the act of war spiraled in towards each other as they ascended again, joyful at the chaos and death they had inflicted.

"What do you say; want to help out Guy and Luke?" Astrid removed her axe from her back and spun it in her hand as both dragons stalled and hovered in the air a moment. Hiccup extended his sword blade and lit it, smiling at the sensation and brimming with anticipation.

"Well they seem about ready to break, why not?" The two looked down towards the fray below, where Saracens scrambled in panic at the fire and explosions that filled their ranks. Crusaders cheered and looked on in awe at seeing the flaming blade coming from the Night Fury rider. The Saracens were collapsing, droves fleeing as the crusaders pushed onwards, quickly driving through their line and slaughtering whoever they found. Hiccup couldn't help but grin, filled with a nervous joy as he prepared to descend into this vicious melee. This was it, into the bloody chaos he had been expecting all morning. If he was going to start proving himself, this was the moment.

Before he and Astrid could descend, a familiar shrieking sound came from nearby and grew louder with each passing second. Both looked around to try and see where the noise was coming from as they recognized the noise that had so often struck terror into them as youths. A shadow passed by their right, whirling around them at a dizzying speed. They tried to catch sight on the shadow that circled around them, always a few inches out of eyesight as it shrieked down on the crusaders.

"Furie Nocturne!"

"Descendez!"

A powerful violet explosion erupted where there had previously been a large congregation of crusaders. Now there was only left charred bodies that lay motionless on the ground, or the few that had survived who gripped their bodies in a burning pain. The black blur flew over the ongoing melee as it soared upwards, striking a new and cautious fear into Hiccup and Astrid as the shadow materialized in the sunlight, spreading its wings and ascending rapidly.

"Ibrahim!"

Despite a few ongoing skirmishes, many in the battle stopped to look up at the sight above, where two of the most elusive creatures known to man were now gathered together, one familiar and terrifying to some, another new and equally intimidating to others. Startled with fear for a moment, Hiccup could only look on in fascination as the dragon brought in its wings and descended again on the battle before unleashing another blast and ascending upwards towards the sun. Hiccup could feel Toothless growling beneath him at the new dragon's sudden appearance. It was certainly good to know that his friend wasn't showing much appreciation for the dragon, at least not yet.

The black wraith flew into the sky quickly, becoming one with the powerful sunlight and disappearing in the bright glow. Hiccup wanted to pursue it, to do what he was supposed to do and try to tame this supposed devil. At the same time he was simply awestruck by the simple moment, of finally meeting another one of Toothless' kind and on the field of battle no less.

"Hiccup get moving!" Astrid screamed at him, forcing him out of shock as Toothless began to hover over the melee again where Saracen and crusader looked towards the sky, waiting for the reappearance of the other Night Fury. Hiccup kept trying to look up into the sunlight to catch a glimpse of the creature, but found his eyes buckling under the strain of the light.

He did not need to look, but only to listen for the distinctive shriek as the dragon came diving back down out of the sun. Hiccup tried to stop Toothless, hoping to get a better look at his adversary. Instead he found that the moving shadow simply ignored him as it charged the melee. A large lavender explosion erupted from a concentration of crusaders, sending knights off their feet and causing other to lose them altogether. The dragon and rider descended into the thick dust cloud created by the explosion.

Hiccup tried to get some kind of an image of this man and the dragon, but the only thing coming out of the dust cloud were defeated crusaders, thrown and kicked out by the dragon with thick gashes running through their armor where fresh and bright red blood poured out. Hiccup met Astrid's gaze as she flew opposite him, as equally distressed and concerned about the sudden appearance of this Ibrahim figure.

"W-Well? He's down there, let's get after him!" Astrid yelled over to her husband, trying to settle the worry in her stomach. Even if she did have a reputation for being fearless, for being always ready for a fight, the present circumstances weren't exactly what she was used to. It was all so much. The frantic killing and the horrid screams and the sudden appearance of Ibrahim were almost overwhelming. Still, she knew that she had to stay level headed for now, lest she lose her own head as well.

"Uh…Right! Come on bud!" Hiccup motioned Toothless down into the fray as Astrid followed. The cloud was thick and unsettling thanks to the small gusts of air caused by the battle and the beating of dragon's wings. Once Toothless touched down, Hiccup switched legs and leaped off, carefully watching all around him for any signs of his enemy.

He bounded back as he caught the body of a crusader thrust towards him. He gently let the body fall to the ground to find deep and flowing red lacerations across the man's body. Averting his eyes from the cruel sight Hiccup kept going, Astrid joining up behind him as Toothless took to his side.

The dragon growled into the dust cloud where a clashing of steel and the whipping of flesh could be heard. With a single beating of his wings, Toothless cleared the dust before him to reveal that which the three searched for.

Another crusader fell limp at the legs of Ibrahim, head only connected to body by a thin sliver of flesh that was being torn away by the weight of the soldier's helmet. The two scimitars that had performed such a task were quickly rotated inwards towards Ibrahim's body as he turned to look at the three new figures that had approached him.

He wore simple garments of black, unadorned and unimpressive considering the man who wore them. His only clothing of note was a small cloak of dark green that covered his shoulders, held in place by a small crescent pendant. His complexion was indescribable if only because he could not be connected to any one ethnicity. His skin was a natural light brown, yet showed signs of tanning as well. His hair was black, but his eyes blue and unbecoming of a man native to the region. He was youthful in his face, but had hands that looked to have been through decades of work or otherwise similar abuse.

Then there was the dragon, snarling at Toothless and vice versa, though neither chose to engage each other for the moment. The two reptiles seemed none too happy to have met each other, even if their riders would have considered it a momentous occasion. It was only slightly smaller than Toothless, but still as equally dark in complexion with piercing silver eyes. Scars, small but noticeable ran down the length of its entire body. They appeared unnatural, almost geometric. As though they had been planned strategically like some cruel branding upon the dragon's hide. It kept alternating between its feet, curling around its master who raised a single scimitar to Hiccup and pointed it at his face calmly, offering a challenge as would a gentleman.

With a single leg growing weak from pulsing adrenaline Hiccup charged with sword behind his head, unaware of whatever style or technique of swordsmanship he was attempting and only seeking to get in close and personal with this man as he had prepared to do. He was ready for whatever came at him, be it sword or dragon. Today he was proving himself, today he became a warrior.

Or so he thought. Instead, Ibrahim simply dodged Hiccup's downward slice with ease and with feline grace mounted his dragon, whose wings quickly kicked up more dust as it bounded into the sky. Hiccup turned back to Astrid, who in a panic could only muster forth "Well come on! Let's keep at him!" She was shaking under the circumstances, of the sheer noise and stench of such a large and chaotic battle that tried and tested every single one of her senses.

Hiccup got back onto Toothless, who continued to growl and hiss at the other Night Fury as it raced back into the air. Hiccup and Astrid tried to ascend after him again as the melee below them was fading away. The Turks were still retreating and many a crusader was pursuing them, albeit more cautiously now that Ibrahim had been spotted. Luke was still doing combat with a few more well armored Saracens, but was dispatching them well enough with Agnes' assistance. Cindre could be seen with Guy and Charles who were each pursuing their own fleeing Turks. Hiccup motioned Astrid upwards to try and find Ibrahim, only to find that he had soared back into the sun again. A clever strategy Hiccup conceded, even if it made him nervous that the dragon was about to pounce down on he and Toothless, or worse Astrid.

The shriek came, loud and piercing against the desert winds and grew in intensity over the course of several seconds. The crusaders below looked up to Hiccup and Astrid and squinted into the sunlight to see where the high pitched wine was coming from. Hiccup had to avert his eyes from the sun as he looked back down towards the crusaders. He would just have to hope he could catch up to Ibrahim when he descended for the attack.

Guy and Charles-each having gone through a number of the Saracens who had chosen to stay and fight- tried to see some semblance of the accursed dragon as it came down through the sunlight. Cindre had been following Charles for much of the time, baring fire and teeth down on a number of Saracens that had threatened both her master and the man she understood that her master cared for deeply, even if this person did not seem to return the sentiment. As Charles disarmed-in both senses- another Turk the dragon curved its neck over him, eyeing up to the sky where it heard as clearly as anyone the oncoming attack.

Charles was none too happy to constantly being trailed by his father's personal beast, and turned up to it with a raging voice. "Will you go away? Unholy devil!"

"Do not talk to her that way son!" Guy gave his own defense of his dragon as he ran his sword trough another Turk.

"I am not your son you heretic!" Charles shook his axe at Guy with fury, raging that this holy battle had been upset by not one, but multiple dragons that were disrupting the sanctity of this glorious endeavor.

The piercing squeal of the approaching Night Fury grew louder and prompted both Normans to look up into the sunlight. Charles readied his axe, hoping that Ibrahim would land again. If was going to kill any dragon today, it was going to be the one he had put up with for over a year now. He wanted his chance at glory, his opportunity to be the hero he had always wanted to be. To be the greatest dragon killer in this army and to live up the legacy that his father had so easily abandoned.

"Come on you bastard I'm right here!" Charles yelled up into the sky as the black dot came closer, shrieking out of the sunlight with fury. The high pitched alarm approached quickly. Any second now would be the moment, the brief instance where Charles would make his name.

The explosion came to his left, sending up another large cloud of dust as more crusaders screamed in fresh agony. Charles rushed into the storm with the Nightmare stalling behind him. He raised his axe as he entered the cloud, ignoring the screams of agony and discontent that was occurring within. He was a soldier of Christ; nothing was going to stop him from taking his glory or this Infidel's life!

A beating of the Night Fury's wings kicked away the dust just enough for Charles to catch sight of the elusive monster that had tormented him for the better part of a year. He raised his axe behind his head, preparing to charge the menace and end this once and for all.

Another squire collapsed before Ibrahim as Charles found his target. Without hesitation the Norman charged his target, which was in turn quick to address his oncoming attacker. Charles swung his axe forward with fury, only to find he had missed his mark and Ibrahim had slipped by the blade unharmed. The Saracen spun on his feet quickly and went for his own attack, punching Charles in his unarmored face before slicing both his scimitars inward against Charles' chest. Though the blow sent him back with force, the Norman was lucky enough that his chainmail had held firm against the swords.

Ibrahim was withdrawing back to his dragon. Despite his own individual success, the battle was turning into a loss for the Turks as their soldiers gave way in the face of the crusader onslaught. This Saracen was smart enough to know it was better to retreat than die with pointless honor. The Night Fury opened its maw to reveal a growing brightness at the back of its throat as Ibrahim raced back to his familiar. Charles steadied himself and raised his axe again. His enemy was not getting away this time. One way or another he was going to kill this devil.

He charged forward with a fierce war cry as he lifted his axe back over his shoulder. The light was growing bright at the back of the Night Fury's throat as Ibrahim climbed atop the creature and pulled at its reigns to beckon it upwards towards the sky. Charles continued to charge forward with determination, failing to concede that his target was escaping. He was within a few lunges as the light at the back of the dragon's throat reached a brilliant violet zenith. The dragon focused his eyes on Charles as he approached. The Norman refused to waver or seek cover. A soldier of Christ did not retreat, he won or he died.

Charles couldn't recall what happened next with much lucidity. He had been bearing down on the dragon as it began to flap its wing and extended its neck and prepared to fire. He was preparing to accept that he might miss his chance, that God may take him now and give the honor of killing Ibrahim to somebody else. Then there had been some large force pushing at his side and he had fallen to the ground, axe slipping from his grip and spinning harmlessly on the ground nearby. There had been a ferocious heat at where he had once stood that was accompanied by a small but fierce explosion that shook the inside of his head.

He turned over slowly, skull pounding with the sudden shock it had endured. Ibrahim was ascending into the sky, his dragon's wings kicking up more dust as it rose higher and took the devil with him. Charles turned over frantically to find his axe, to see if maybe he could land a lucky throw at the beast. At the same time he caught sight of the object that had forced him to the ground and away from the blast, stopping him cold.

Sir Guy of Falaise's body lay dejected and limp on the ground where Charles had just walked a moment prior, a dark purple spot on his side where blood had quickly gushed form his body and cauterized under the extreme heat.

"No…"

Ibrahim flew away, leaving the younger Norman to grieve the demise of the elder. Charles crawled over to the body and turned it on its back where his father's body still convulsed in pain, blood coughing up to the back of the mouth. With eyes that rapidly drained of life Guy looked up towards his son, who could only stare back down with a blank and shocked expression.

"F-Fils…"

"Papa…" Charles responded back, mind trying in vain to organize the last minute and to register some kind of emotional response.

Above the melee Hiccup and Astrid were as equally shocked at what they had beheld. It had come so suddenly and without warning. Hiccup was quickly regretting having not set Toothless down again to try and confront Ibrahim, but at the same time Charles proximity had made him nervous as to whether or not the crusader would attack the right Night Fury. Ibrahim was quickly ascending upwards again as the Turkish infantry were becoming routed off the plane. Many crusaders were making for the Saracen camp to pillage and enjoy the many privileges and indulgences of victory. From in the air, Hiccup watched as Charles kneeled over the body of his father, beginning to scream and yell in a blood chilling manner of French.

Cindre, quickly noticing her master's fate had leaped over to the body and lowered her head down towards it. With a weak hand Guy brushed the snout of the dragon, only to have Charles push it away and yell at the creature.

"Non! Evadez-vous de lui, vous bête! Sortez d'ici!"

The dragon wandered backwards and tried to get out of the way of charging crusaders; who ignored the beast that they otherwise would have killed in a heartbeat as they made for the Turkish camp and whatever gold, women and most importantly food lay within. Hiccup winced at the sight as it dragged forth an unpleasant memory of his own.

"Is he…" Astrid asked as she came close to him, still looking up towards the sun to see if she could catch a glimpse of Ibrahim. Hiccup could only give half a nod as he scanned the field before him, freshly sown with the seeds of thousands of Frank and Saracen bodies that bled out into the dry ground, some still writing in pain as their life flowed out of them in torrents of red. Hiccup knew that most wounded wouldn't make it, one of the few things Luke had managed to convey to him last night as they had prepared for battle.

The Gael himself was still wrapping up a final duel with a very stubborn Saracen who had remained on the field even as his comrades had either been routed or killed. With a final lucky strike to the legs O'Gara managed to fianlly dispatch this Turk. He looked up to the sky with a blood stained face, quickly catching Hiccup's view. They were both distracted when an apparition of black streaked across the sky and made for the mountains in the distance. Though Hiccup couldn't hear Luke amidst the thousands of Franks cheering for victory below, he could still make out the sentiment on the red stained face.

"_Well? What are you waiting for? Chase him down!"_

Hiccup looked over to Astrid who still had her axe drawn and was keeping a close eye on the dark specter that was rapidly closing in on the horizon. Despite wanting to stop and take in the carnage below and try to make sense of what had just happened, Hiccup knew he had a job to still perform and nodded over towards Astrid who smiled weakly in agreement. The hunt was on. No time for rest or misery. He still had to prove himself, and with that in mind he motioned Toothless onward as fast as he could, leaving behind the slaughter below him as he and Astrid pursued their new opponent away and throughout the day.

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Peace.

There is something to be said for peace. When the world is dark and resting and relaxing from the rigors and stresses of battle, there is peace. It is a strange kind of peace, one that is oddly intense when compared to others. When the muscles finally relax and the body grows weak with exhaustion, there is peace. When the mind finally slows down and begins to process the chaotic events of the day and comprehend the actions one has committed, there is peace.

And at least according to Luke O'Gara, a goblet of wine is just as good as any peace.

The city was finally retiring after a long and exhausting day. The crusaders seemed to be breathing a collective sigh of relief as sun had set and the last of the Turkish cavalry-screening the withdrawal of the infantry- had vanished from the surrounding area. It had taken until the early hours of the morning, but the crusaders were finally starting to relax and get some sleep after a brutal, bloody but eventually victorious battle. Luke had never participated in one quite so large, or so vicious. He had received a few minor cuts and bruises amidst his participation, but if his past was any indication they would heal and infection would pass him by.

Thirty seven. He could now bring his tally of men felled by him to thirty seven. He had killed thirteen men today. Thirteen Saracens extinguished from this world. Thirteen sins of his that would be cleansed by God's grace for participating in this most noble undertaking.

Luke groaned as he took a seat on one of the two couches in the house he had managed to establish as his own upon entering the city. Other crusaders had given him both suspicious and curious looks as he and Agnes paraded through one of the streets as the crusaders entered the city after pillaging the Turkish camp. He had met with and pledged his fealty to Duke Robert in front of a multitude of other Normans, face and clothes still dripping with Saracen blood. He had been awarded a rather nice house in reward for his efforts that day, to shelter him and the others of what the Duke was calling the 'Holy Dragons Group'. A rather stupid and pretentious name if Luke had anything to say about it, but he was not about to say so in front of his new commander.

He took a sip of his wine, having found a rather impressive and surprisingly intact store of it in a tucked away closet of the house. Whoever had lived here before had certainly had some amount of money and taste.

He was probably dead too, but that was the least of Luke's concerns at the moment.

He didn't have many concerns actually, at least none that he wanted to actively acknowledge. The day had been won, God's work was done. Supplies could begin to flow into the city again and Luke could have his first meal of any substance soon. Overall, a victorious day.

Granted Guy was dead, but so was the nature of war. Luke had learned quickly after his first battle not to fret over dead friends. He had had an old friend, McCarthy who had joined him in his first real battle, a raid on a village which had failed to assist Wexford in fighting off the dragon raids. They had gone in under cover of darkness and were quickly separated amidst the fighting. When dawn broke and the village was alit with the fires of destruction, Luke had found his friend decapitated in a cow pen. He cried for a day, and moved on. There was little time to cry over death in Ireland. Little time to mourn the dead when there were always more dead coming the next day.

Even if Luke had gotten to appreciate Guy in their brief few weeks together, the Gael couldn't mourn the Norman's death for long. God took who he wanted when he wanted, and it had apparently been Guy's turn. And in the end, Luke had to admit that doing so in battle with the Infidel was as good a way as any. Especially if done to protect a son, even if that son was a stuck up little prick as far as O'Gara was concerned.

He hadn't caught much of Charles after the battle, nor did he care much about it anyways. He had been too busy tending to his wounds and settling into his quarters to see to Guy's burial, if it would even be taken care of today. There were quite a few bodies to pick up after the slaughter, and even given Guy's knightly status it would take a good while to tend to them all. The Saracens alone would be quite the hassle considering how many of them had fallen.

Thirteen. Luke smiled at the thought of what he had done. Thirteen infidels removed from this world, thirteen less Saracens standing in the way of the righteous and their ultimate goal of Jerusalem. Thirteen less men, only to be replaced by a dragon…

Luke relaxed back into the couch again; sighing as numbing alcoholic warmth alleviated the pain in his scars and allowed him to enjoy the rare serenity of still night.

Ibrahim…

He was beginning to understand just why this man was such a monster in the minds of the crusaders. The sheer ferocity with which the man had fought-from what Luke could gather from the tales of others-was indeed almost demonic in its vicious and relentless nature. The thought of facing down a Night Fury of all creatures was a terrifying prospect in itself. Facing down the warrior who _rode_ it was hardly any better.

He wished out into the universe that Hiccup and Astrid would be alright in hunting Ibrahim down. He had urged them on as he saw the Night Fury trying to escape, hoping that maybe they would catch up to him and achieve a quick victory. He wasn't really sure _how_ Hiccup would be able to kill this powerful warrior, but then again the chief did always seem to come out ahead of things.

But that was day to day life, not battle. Luke still held firm that his actions a few days ago at the destroyed village had been justified, that he had been in the right to try and save Hiccup from going into battle in the first place. He had wanted to train him, to make him into the kind of warrior that _he _was, the kind of warrior that others like himself could look up to and respect. It was almost cruel to take an innocent idealist like Hiccup and throw him into such a massive and unruly battle without proper preparation. Crueler still to have him facing down an _actual_ warrior who rode the same dragon as he did. Luke _almost_ regretted having sent him off to hunt Ibrahim down now that he considered just how unprepared Hiccup really was. Then again, he did have Astrid and Toothless, so what was the worst that could happen?

Yes death was certainly a possibility…but then again when isn't it?

Luke shook his head to remove such thoughts from his mind. They would be fine, probably. He took another sip of his wine and closed his eyes. Battle was done, the trials of combat over for the foreseeable future and the city at peace. _He _was at peace. Maybe he would wake up one of these nights screaming and short of breath as his hands made phantom movements of sword swings, but that would come later. For now, there was peace.

Peace.

"Come on Astrid."

_Peace never lasts does it?_

Luke felt a few loud thumps on the walls that he took to mean that Stormfly and Toothless were bounding onto the roof of the house to meet up with Agnes. Luke hadn't seen Cindre since the battle, but supposed she would be fine. Only be a fool who would dare to attack a dragon that had belonged to a man who was already being celebrated in song amidst other knights from Normandy.

Hiccup and Astrid creaked open the wooden door and looked into the house. Dimly illuminated by the light of a few oil lamps, it took them a few moments to spot Luke sitting in one of the couches in the corner, cloaked only in a white dressing shirt. He had chosen to get undressed once settled, not very comfortable with the amount of Turkish blood that was still on his clothes. He would wash them eventually, but for the moment he chose simply to relax and enjoy the touch of cool night air against his skin. He twirled his goblet in his hand as the Hiccup and Astrid entered, making careful observations of their surroundings.

"Hail Sir Hiccup! Conqueror of Dragons and Infidels!" Luke sarcastically proclaimed as he straightened himself in his seat, welcoming his friends in.

"He..he…yeah. Heard we might find you here." Hiccup uttered without much energy, visibly tired and distraught. Astrid stayed close to his side and placed a hand on his back to sooth him.

"So then…did we catch our little Infidel eh?" Luke stood up and made his way over to a table where the bottle of wine was still opened and half full. Hiccup's head fell towards the floor as he gave his honest response.

"He…uh…we lost him after five minutes and spent the rest of the day _trying_ to track him down. He's…yeah he's gone." Hiccup was used to saying things with shame as a result of his childhood, but this confession was painful in a different way. It was admitting to a failure in something he was actually _good_ at, using dragons and flying. He was admitting that he wasn't good enough to hunt Ibrahim down, and he considered it a dark spot on his reputation.

"Eh no worries lad, we've got a whole campaign to fight him, savor the hunt." Luke pulled out two more goblets and began to fill them with some of the rich dark liquid.

"Sure…anyways…what is this place?" Astrid broke in, hoping to try and lift her husband's spirits and the general mood of the room. She knew that his failure was certainly affecting his sense of worth, and hoped that this depressing sense of self wouldn't last very long.

"Probably belonged to some trader or other man of worth back before the crusaders took the city. Duke said it was ours for the time being while-oh! Before I forget, tomorrow at noon we are meeting with the commanders of the army at the church by the city square. Some business about being accepted into the army and showing the commanders our dragons and pledges of loyalty and what not."

Mentioning the three of them prompted Hiccup to ask about the usual forth of their group.

"Right. Will…um…will Guy…is he-"

"Dead lad." Luke was short and to the point in addressing the issue, showing what little remorse he could muster. It perturbed Astrid at how he could be so cold when talking about the death of who she thought he was friends with, but from what she could gather Luke was rather used to such events.

"His countrymen will probably take to burying him as soon as they can, assuming they don't get swamped in dealing with all the other dead out there." Luke brought Astrid and Hiccup their wine and more so forced than offered it into their hands. "Here, has a nice nutty taste to it, rather pleasant if I say so myself." He withdrew back to take his own chalice.

"So he's-"

"Hiccup. He's dead. That's it." Luke leaned back against the table with the wine bottle as he took another sip. "Rather sad way to go about dying, but there you go." Luke felt an awkward tension swelling in the back of his throat as the topic was broached. He had been rather shocked to hear the truth of the death of Hiccup's father after the confrontation at the village, and after hearing of how Guy had died in a similar fashion, he knew broaching one topic was only going to lead to the addressing of the other. He resolved instead to change the topic.

"So…you lost Ibrahim?"

Hiccup's head sank and his lips pursed together in shame. "We tried to see if he was regrouping with the other Turks that were retreating, but he just seems to have vanished into the clouds. Then we tried searching the nearby clouds, and still nothing."

"Well…I'm sure he'll turn up soon enough given what the other crusaders have said about him. You'll get your chance don't you worry." He yawned as he finished and with a long final gulp inhaled the rest of his wine, shivering his head as he put the goblet down. "Anyways, I'm exhausted and I can imagine you two are as well. I was only waiting up to see if you'd return, which you have. There's a large bed down that hallway to the right that you two can have, I'll take the one upstairs."

Luke pushed himself away from the table and made for the dark stairway, taking one of the oil lamps with him. "I'll see you in the morning, sleep well."

With that O'Gara retired upstairs, grumbling in Gaelic at how he hoped the husband and wife would _only_ sleep tonight. He didn't know how thick these walls were, but he had no interests in finding out now.

Left in the awkward silence and dim light, Astrid and Hiccup met eyes quietly before mutually agreeing to take a sip of the wine they were offered. They raised their goblets together and tried the liquid before immediately spitting it out on each other shoes and coughing violently.

"Oh God!"

"Blech!"

"How does he drink this stuff?"

"Tastes like Nightmare piss!"

The brief interlude of humor gave a new life to the room as the two tried to rid the bitter taste from their mouths. While O'Gara had been correct in that the wine did have a nutty taste, it was only a mild aftertaste that arrived after a ferocious assault on one's taste buds.

"Oh wow that's…that's bad."

"No kidding. I mean I know he's got some eccentric tastes but that is…wow." Astrid started giggling at thinking of Luke's other strange habits, like nibbling on pine needles and sucking pieces of fish for a solid minute before actually swallowing it. She could now add wretched tasting wine to her list of the Gael's eccentricities.

The laughter and sounds of disgust faded after a minute and the two were left in silence again. They put the goblets down and wandered to different areas of the room, inspecting the few furnishings and decorations that had survived the taking of the city.

"So…he's dead."

"Yeah…" the realization left them quite for the moment. It was still hard to fathom it, that the man they had flown into battle with that morning was dead, but then again such was the way of war.

"How do you think Cindre is doing?" Astrid asked, hoping that talking about dragons would take Hiccup's mind off the similarity she _knew_ he was drawing between Guy's death and that of his father.

"Eh…" Hiccup's voice was soft, crestfallen and distraught. Astrid couldn't tell if it was out of grief for Guy or the memory of his own father, but she decided not to ask for now. She wanted to get to bed soon, and dealing with Hiccup's remaining 'issues' would take much longer than she would care for. "Nightmare's develop pretty strong senses of loyalty, so she's probably taking it hard. Just hope she's alright out there."

"Yeah…I'm sure she's fine. The whole army probably knows by now that she belonged to him. They'll be respectful if only out respect for him."

"Yeah…"

Hiccup was silent as he held up a small statue of decoration, hardly paying attention to its detail as he sighed into the still air of the room. Astrid huffed as she started walking over to him. It had been a long day and they both needed rest. Hiccup's delaying of this end his with his moping was tiresome in itself. As much as Guy's death saddened Astrid, she had a stronger soul than Hiccup and was willing to separate herself from the event easily enough. She came up behind Hiccup and wrapped her arms between his ribs, pulling him towards her gently. He started to turn in her grip and was shortly facing her, faces only inches apart.

"Regardless, _you_ did very nicely out there today Sir Hiccup." She hoped flattery would alleviate his woes as it tended to. He was still very easy to please when complimented, and she knew that an accolade on his combat performance would almost certainly buoy his spirits.

"Did I?" He asked, a smile pushing its way to the sides of lips as he enjoyed Astrid's close touch.

"Yes, you did very well and acted just like a knight should." She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, not beckoning for anything else except the simple touch. She pulled back to speak softly again as Hiccup's head slowly tilted further towards her, regretful the kiss could not last longer.

"Yes. So professional…so tough." She pulled on him tighter, pressing their bodies together tightly. "So…manly…" She could almost _feel_ his ego inflating again at the compliment. She was getting _too_ good at propping him up; she would have to work on that.

"Mmh…thanks. You were..." he lowered his head in to get another kiss, light and chaste yet filled with affection. "...very manly as well."

Astrid pulled back a few inches; face contorting as she tried to make sense of what almost sounded like an insult. Hiccup's face was passing through a number of different shades of red as he realized what he had said in an effort to be romantic.

"Uh…I uh…I…I mean…for a _woman _you were…" Astrid's eyebrows fell as she stared into him. He should have known better than to call her a woman in _that_ sense.

"Well I mean…not like…a _woman _but a…but a man who…yeah I'm not winning this am I?" His confession drew a light smirk from Astrid's face. She couldn't stay mad at him long for that. It wasn't the first time he'd said something stupid to try and compliment her, she doubted it would be the last.

"No you won't. Fortunately…" She moved to kiss him again, forgiving him with the light touch against his lips. "…I'm a merciful victor."

"Mmh? How merciful?"

"Oh well now look who's happy again all of a sudden."

"Sorry…I can't help it."

Astrid loosened her grip around his sides, as she leaned back, lowering her grip to his waist and firmly grasping the thick flesh that lay behind his waistline.

"Then I tell you what…let's get some damn sleep and maybe tomorrow I'll show you what victory _really_ looks like." A smug grin came across Hiccup's face, dragging whatever part of his mind was still lingering on battle away from such morbid memories and into the joys of what was to come. Astrid's own smile betrayed her confidence. She really was _too_ good at manipulating his emotions, definitely had to work on that.

Who was she kidding; this was _her power_ to wield! What kind of woman would she be if she ignored this God-given talent?

She pulled at him and led him down the hallway, looking for the bedroom that had told them off in the poorly lit house.

"Well victory _was _pretty good today; I suppose another kind of victory should be as equally satisfying." Hiccup giggled at the remark even if he knew how blatantly transparent his desires were, not that Astrid was implying she thought any differently.

"Yes, and after all victory is such a _manly_ thing to have. Thus, whoever has victory must be the manliest." Astrid responded as she opened a door behind which a large bed was illuminated dimly from the moonlight outside. It looked inviting, an actual mattress instead of hard ground and blankets. All she wanted was sleep for now, _victory_ could wait.

"Well then I can't wait to celebrate my victory..." Hiccup flopped down on the bed, hastily kicking off his boots and discarding the more cumbersome pieces of his armor to the floor. Astrid did the same, undoing her shoulder pads and war skirt before falling next to him. There was silence for a moment as both quickly lost any sense of consciousness as the feel of a sot mattress beckoned them on towards rest.

"Who says it's _your_ victory?"

...

**Hello Peoples!**

**This one's coming a little faster as I had a good amount of it written before I uploaded the last chapter. I had a lot of fun writing the battle scene, and look forward to more of them to come. **

**Ah poor Charles, a pity about that isn't it? Such is the nature of war, and what is good writing without tragedy after all?**

**And now something important:**

**I am going to be working on other things in the world of fanfiction right now. For now, this story is going on the backburner for now. I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY! Updates will simply be a little more further apart as I work I work on other things. Fear not, I will finish this and I look forward to doing so. After all, what kind of a man would I be if I gave up on the Crusade of all things? I hope you'll check out my next work when I have it up, and stay tuned for more.**

**-Mc.**


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